


laid at your feet

by colourexplosion



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Religion, Saved! au, always a girl harry - Freeform, always a girl louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8261534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourexplosion/pseuds/colourexplosion
Summary: Harry Styles tries her best to be a good, God-loving person. She goes to church every Sunday, youth group every Wednesday and sings in her best friend Louis’ Christian girl band some mornings at assembly of her Christian private school. She wears her clothes exactly to dress code and she prays every night before bed and she has premarital sex with her boyfriend Liam when God tells her to.
  Or, a Saved!au





	

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE HERE!!! this is the first girl!direction I've ever finished and posted. It's based on the movie Saved! if you've seen it. If not, do yourself a favor and watch it. 
> 
> Anyway, I wanna thank Saskia for helping me finish and for saying, "i love this scene so much I'm gonna gay marry it" on the google doc. I love you, you're the best. Also thanks to wade and kate for encouraging me and listening to me whine abt it always. Y'ALL THE REAL MVPs!!! 
> 
> This fic deals with some internalized homophobia, but nothing super heavy or super explicit. still, if you find anything you think should be tagged, let me know! Also, it is fiction, which means it does not necessarily reflect any of my personal beliefs and definitely has no bearing on the RL versions of 1D. please don't show this to them. thank you. 
> 
> enjoy!!!

Harry Styles tries her best to be a good, God-loving person. She goes to church every Sunday, youth group every Wednesday and sings in her best friend Louis’ Christian girl band some mornings at assembly of her Christian private school. She wears her clothes exactly to dress code and she prays every night before bed and she has premarital sex with her boyfriend Liam when God tells her to. 

Well, alright, he didn’t like, _tell_ her tell her. But seeing Jesus in a dream right after Liam told her he was having strange feelings is a pretty clear sign. _Fuck your boyfriend_ , Jesus might as well have said. That’s what his eyes said, at least. Harry’s very good at reading facial expressions and social cues. 

Anyway, she does everything right, so it’s a bit unfair that she’s heaving over the toilet bowl half an hour before her first day of senior year. 

“I can’t be sick,” she groans, her voice echoing back at her against the porcelain. 

A knock on the bathroom door startles her. “Sweetie, Lou’s here!” Her mom. Oh god. If she thinks Harry’s sick she’ll make her stay home for sure. 

“Coming!” she calls, flushing the toilet and turning to brush her teeth for the second time that morning. 

— 

She feels better by the time she makes it out to the minivan that Louis drives. A gift from her (newest) step-father, but really it’s just so Louis can take all of her brothers to school. 

“Took you long enough,” Louis says as Harry scrambles into her seat. She flushes, but doesn’t say anything. There’s something about Louis that’s always intimidated her, even though they’ve been friends since elementary school. Like, Harry’s seen Louis at her worst — pre-fitness camp and Proactiv subscription, sobbing uncontrollably when her dad left and then being mean to everyone for months on end about it — and still just. There’s just something that makes Harry nervous to be around her, makes her hands shake and her stomach flutter and makes her try her hardest to make Louis laugh. Lou’s best when she laughs, when she’s happy, because when she’s laughing she can’t be mean. 

“I like your hair,” Harry says, after Louis has pulled out of the driveway. It’s chin-length and artfully tousled, but Harry knows her well enough to know she probably spent at least half an hour carefully messing it up with product. 

“Thanks,” she says, smiling so warmly at Harry that Harry’s breath catches a bit. Then she frowns. “Yours is wet. Did you forget how to use the blowdryer?” 

_No, I had to wash the vomit out of it before I got in your car_. “Must’ve missed a spot,” Harry says, shrugging, and Lou lets it go. 

—

The spot next to Louis’ is empty when they get in, which is weird. Usually Liam parks there and he always gets to school early to study with Mr. Winston for Chemistry. 

“I wonder where Liam is,” Harry says, frowning. Come to think of it, she hasn’t heard from him in a few days. That’s pretty typical; they’re not a super clingy couple, but usually he answers her texts about MasterChef and the thread’s been sitting the same since Wednesday night. 

“Are you joking?” Louis’ tone is sharp, a dangerous edge to it. Harry’s used to her talking to her like she’s an idiot, but this is different. 

“Um, no? I haven’t heard from him since last Tuesday.” 

A look passes over Louis’ face, soft before she rolls her eyes and hardens again. “He’s gone,” she says, hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder and walking toward school. Harry stares at the cuffs of her khakis, rolled to expose her ankles. It’s not technically dress code, but she gets away with it. Louis gets away with everything. 

“What?” Harry asks, running after her. “What do you mean, gone?” 

Louis stops, turns to her. “He left. Transferred. His parents sent him to a different school.” She tilts her head, gives Harry a once over before saying, “I heard it’s a conversion school. For sinners.” 

And she turns away again, leaving Harry in the parking lot, unsure of what to do. Liam can’t be gone because of her, right? It’s not a sin if Jesus told her to do it and his parents wouldn’t send him away for having sex once. That’d be ridiculous. No, no it must’ve been because of the other thing. Liam’s feelings about boys thing. 

Harry frowns deeper, chewing on her lip. She doesn’t really understand why Liam would like boys more than girls, but she also doesn’t really understand the big deal about any of it. Sure, she’ll get married one day and have kids probably, but like, that’s just what people do. She only slept with Liam to help him figure it out, not try to like, make him like girls more or anything. She was just trying to be a good person. She didn’t want — He doesn’t deserve to end up in one of those places. 

A car screeches around the corner, pulling into the lot and startling Harry back into the present. It’s a beat up old thing, the base color bright purple under the litany of designs spray painted on it. Harry darts out of the way as the driver turns sharply into Liam’s empty spot, the music dying with the engine.

She watches, transfixed, as a girl gets out, her skinny legs sticking out under her too-short pleated skirt, her shirt untucked and her hair in a messy bun. It’s dark, looks silky in the morning sunlight. She’s got a cigarette between her painted lips, her nails black when she takes it out and stubs it against the roof of her car. 

“You need something?” she asks, slamming her door behind her, and Harry jumps, swallows and shakes her head. 

“Have a nice day,” she says lamely, before turning and practically running into the school. 

— 

Harry spends the rest of the day in a weird funk. She’s so out of it that she barely makes it to assembly on time to change into her performance outfit and takes so long getting it on that Lou tuts at her and helps her, hands carelessly brushing over her chest as she does up the buttons on Harry’s shirt and making her hiss. 

“Careful,” Harry whines, but Lou only rolls her eyes and tugs on her shirt harder. 

She nearly forgets her words while they’re performing and can’t even pay attention to the welcome sermon from the new Head Pastor-slash-Principal. She moves through her school day in a daze, vaguely nauseous and lightheaded, taking in all the syllabi and first day back speeches. 

She’s so out of it, really, that she doesn’t even remember that Louis can’t give her a ride home because she has to pick up her brothers. It wouldn’t have been a problem, because Liam could give her a ride, but. Right. Standing next to an empty parking space with a sinking feeling in her stomach really isn’t the best use of her time, but her phone’s dead and Liam’s gone and she’s alone. She’s _alone._

Harry’s never really been alone before. _You’re not alone,_ Louis would tell her. _God’s with you, like, all the time. That’s kind of the point_. 

She puts her face in her hands. Her best friend invading her inner monologue is not what she needs right now. What she needs is a ride home, so if God could like, make that happen, it’d be great. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

Harry looks up sharply, squeaking when she sees the girl from this morning. Zayn Malik, she knows now, because she’d made it a point to listen when their math teacher was calling roll. 

“Um,” she says, gesturing helplessly. “I don’t have a ride home and my phone’s dead. Could I use yours, maybe?” 

Zayn looks at her for a minute before rolling her eyes. “Get in,” she says, and Harry blinks. 

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. I can really just use your —” 

“Do you want to get home or not?” Zayn says, walking around her to open the driver’s side door. “I’m leaving in thirty seconds. Make your choice.” 

Harry’s in the car in ten, kicking discarded food wrappers out of the way and settling into the old leather seat. “This is a nice car,” she says, pulling on her seatbelt as the engine roars to life. 

“It’s a piece of shit,” Zayn says over the music. “But it gets me where I need to go.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything else, except to direct Zayn to her house. Zayn pulls into the empty driveway. Harry’s mom’s still at work, then. Typical. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Harry says, giving Zayn a smile. Zayn only shrugs at her. 

“Nothing better to do,” she says, digging around in the center console and withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. There’s an admonishment on Harry’s tongue but she bites it back. She probably shouldn’t be rude to the person who just got her home. She watches as Zayn’s long fingers pull one out and she puts it between her lips, lighting the end of it and sucking. Harry’s stomach turns, and not just from the smoke. 

“Yeah. That’s the only reason?”

Zayn looks at her, an eyebrow arched. “It’s what Jesus would do, isn’t it?” 

“You’re not Christian,” Harry retorts, flushing immediately. Rude, that was rude. “I mean, it’s just —” 

“Muslims believe in helping people too,” Zayn says, her voice gone hard. “You don’t have a monopoly on doing good deeds.” 

“Of course not,” Harry says, holding her hands up. She’s really fucked this up. “I just didn’t know you were religious at all.” 

Zayn’s eyebrow goes higher. “Only religious people can help someone out?” 

“No. No! Of course not,” Harry says, flustered. She buries her face in her hands and then fumbles with the seatbelt. She just needs to remove herself from the situation before she makes it worse. “I’m really sorry, thank you so much for giving me a ride, I’ll —”

A hand on hers cuts her off, the contact killing the words in her throat. Zayn’s hands are warmer than she thought they’d be, smoother too. Harry’s pulse ratchets up as Zayn gently moves her hand and undoes the seat belt for her. Zayn doesn’t move back as the belt retracts itself, and Harry looks at her, takes in the lines of her face and the amber of her eyes. Zayn is really beautiful, is the thing. Probably the most beautiful girl that Harry knows. More beautiful than Louis, even. 

Those are weird thoughts to be having at a time like this. 

“Thanks,” she says, clearing her throat and leaning back, willing the flush on her face to go away. “For the ride. Um. I really am sorry about the other stuff. That was rude and — and ignorant.” 

“You’re fine,” Zayn says, and when Harry looks at her she’s leaned back, looking out the window. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Harry nods and opens the door, slipping out and shutting it behind herself. She doesn’t hear the car back out until she’s inside the front door, leaning her back against it and trying to catch her breath. 

—

Fridays are rehearsals at Louis’ house, because it’s pretty much the only day they’re guaranteed to be free of her brothers. They’ve all always got a playdate set then, or some friend to spend the night with. So it’s just Harry and Louis and Louis’ parents, who never come down into the basement unless they need something particularly badly. Harry’s fairly certain they spend most of the time upstairs in their room having sex, but she doesn’t think about that because it’s unChristian-like to think about your best friend’s parents having sex, probably. 

Besides, that’s weird, and only made weirder by the fact that ever since Harry slept with Liam, all she’s been doing is imagining people having sex. It’s like a switch she can’t turn off, so instead she just ignores it. Most of the time. 

Louis lets her in through the downstairs door, so Harry doesn’t have to make awkward small talk with Jay or anything, and they can get to work right away. Though, honestly, work consists of Louis at her keyboard and Harry lounging on the bed and them picking out harmonies of their favorite songs. They don’t sing every day, or even every week really, so it’s not a big deal if they don’t actually do much practice. 

Harry drops her bag and drapes herself over the bed, groaning as the muscles in her back finally relax. 

“You’ve got to get yourself a new bed,” Louis says, and Harry rolls her eyes but doesn’t answer. She wants to say something about how not everyone’s parents will just buy them a bed, no questions asked, but honestly her parents probably would get her a new one if she told them. She just doesn’t want to tell them, mainly, and she doesn’t want to start an unnecessary argument with Louis. 

“I got a ride from Zayn Malik,” she says instead, rolling onto her stomach to look at Louis. Louis quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t look up from her keyboard. 

“Forgot I had to pick up my brothers, huh?” 

Harry rolls her eyes but blushes. “Forgot Liam wouldn’t be there, actually,” she says lightly, swallowing the sour taste in her mouth at the mention of him. “She was nice, though. I made an idiot of myself.” 

“Who cares? She’s like — ” Louis waves a hand. “ — Totally irrelevant.” 

“I guess,” Harry says. “But I like, feel bad. I was kind of rude to her.” 

“Well, she goes around smoking and wearing her skirt at an indecent length, so I think it’s fine,” Louis says, voice short. Harry raises her eyebrows but doesn’t reply. She probably has some beef with Zayn that Harry doesn’t know about. It seems like she has a problem with a lot of the people Harry hangs out with, so Harry’s past the point of taking it personally. 

“What do you want to work on?” Music’s a surefire way to get Louis in a good mood. Usually. 

Louis shrugs, plays a few chords that Harry doesn’t recognize. “That sounds good,” she says, sitting up on the bed. “What is it?” 

The flush on Louis’ cheeks is barely visible but it’s there, which is how Harry knows this is big. Important. 

“I wrote it,” Louis mumbles, and Harry nearly falls off the bed. 

“Yeah? Will you play it for me?” 

The flush on Louis’ cheeks deepens and she doesn’t say anything, but she straightens her shoulders and puts her hands on the keys. “Don’t laugh, okay?” 

Harry shakes her head, crosses herself and presses her lips together, leaning over eagerly, like that’s somehow going to help her hear better. 

“There’s no words,” Louis murmurs, without looking up, and starts to play. 

It’s slow, sweet, like Louis’ coaxing the notes out gently with her fingertips. She looks vulnerable, soft like she rarely ever does, and only when she’s alone with Harry. It makes Harry’s heart swell with something undefinable, her eyes slipping shut as Louis plays on, losing herself in the light melody. It’s almost — tender. If Harry didn’t know better than to think Louis were capable of actually being tender. 

Her eyes blink open when Louis stops, and she swallows thickly. “That was really beautiful, Louis,” she says, staring at the top of Louis’ head and willing her to look up. “Honestly. Like. I’d listen to it every day if I could.” 

Louis looks up at that, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks are flushed and Harry knows she’s pleased. More than half the reason Louis’ a jerk is because she just wants people to like her, but she always seems so surprised when they actually do. Harry’s no exception to that, even though they’ve known each other for years. 

“Don’t make a big deal about it,” she says, clicking off the power on the keyboard. “Now come on, I’m hungry.” 

Harry watches as Louis makes her way to the stairs, the confident sway of her hips, the way her fingers curl around the bannister. She looks back at Harry, her eyes wide and her face so open that it takes the breath out of Harry’s chest. 

“Coming?” she asks, and it’s all Harry can do to nod. 

—

Liam’s postcard arrives on Monday, the mail carrier handing it to Harry with a smile as she rushes to the van. She blurts out a thanks and hops in the car, breathless as she buckles her belt. 

“Sorry, had to help mom with the plants,” she says, even though she’d really been puking up her breakfast. Waking up feeling awful is getting really old, but Harry doesn’t know how to make it better. She should probably be eating better, but the only things that don’t make her hurl are like, plain bread and cucumbers and Dr. Pepper. 

“It’s fine,” Louis says, and Harry lets out the breath she was holding and looks at the postcard. 

_Harry_ , it reads. 

_I hope you’re well. I miss you alot. This school is...different. All the people here seem like they’re trying their best to help us, and I’m thankful for that. I feel blessed by God to have the opportunity. I wanted to say thank you for trying to help me. I appreciate that. Keep in touch!_

_Hope you’re doing well,  
Liam_

God. It sounds — Not at all like Liam, first of all. It sounds like Liam if he were a robot or a pod-person. Someone must’ve been watching him as he wrote it, or it must’ve been an assignment or something. The thought turns Harry’s stomach and she stuffs the postcard back in her bag. 

“What’s that?” 

Harry turns to look at Louis, startled. She’d forgotten Louis was there, actually. Embarrassing. 

“It’s from Liam,” she says, looking back out the front. 

“What, did he break up with you or something?” 

Harry blinks. “What?” 

Louis shrugs. “You’re upset. Just figured that was it.” 

“I’m not like — ” Harry rolls her eyes. “I’m not some like, lovesick moron, Lou. His parents sent him away with no notice and this,” she grabs the postcard again, waving it around, “is not Liam. It’s not him. I don’t know what they’re doing to him there.” 

“Okay, chill. It’s not like he’s in prison.” 

Harry squeezes her hand into a fist, crumpling the card. Yeah, maybe Liam’s not actually in prison, but the thought of him being in one of those places — Harry’s heard stories, read things on the internet and seen what people are like after they come back. They look dead inside, and she can only imagine what it does to a person to be there. To be told over and over that they’re not allowed to be a certain way or think certain thoughts because God might not love them. Harry doesn’t believe that. God loves everyone. That’s like, the point of God. 

“I’m just worried about him, is all,” she says quietly, and Louis hums, clicking her tongue against her teeth. 

“He’ll be alright, Harry,” she says, voice soft. “God’ll take care of him.” 

_I hope so_ , Harry thinks, but only manages to nod as Louis pulls into the school parking lot. 

—

Harry really only hangs out with Louis. Sometimes Niall gets a ride with them in the morning, but for the most part, Harry’s only two friends are Louis and Liam. And with Liam being gone, it means that Harry’s really only left with Louis.

Not that she minds hanging out with Louis. She loves Louis, and a lot of the time they manage to have a lot of fun together, but it gets a little boring, only hanging out with one person all the time. Niall’s alright, but Harry doesn’t really know her, except that sometimes she sees her sitting with Zayn in the cafeteria. They never seem to speak to each other, but still. Harry gets the impression that Zayn doesn’t let just anyone sit with her at lunch. 

Zayn could be her friend, she supposes, if she really wanted to make an effort to fix things between them. As it is, Harry’s still really embarrassed about their last interaction and has spent most of her time avoiding her altogether. Harry can tell she’s smart, though, probably one of the smartest in the school. The things she says in classes, the questions she asks about their readings are much more in depth than anyone else comes up with, and while the teachers always seem weary of her, she’s not rude or belligerent. Sure, she’ll argue sometimes, but honestly Dotty Mackens deserves to be argued with because she’s an idiot. Harry’s always thought so. 

In any case, Harry’s too much of a wimp to try and engage Zayn in conversation, and the flack she’d have to take from Louis’ being jealous about her getting a new friend isn’t worth it. Not really. It always takes Louis forever to get over it, and Harry’s not sure she and Zayn really have all that much in common anyway. 

—

Harry finds out she’s pregnant a month into school. September’s almost over and her belly’s been getting bigger, protruding between her hips like it didn’t before. The nausea comes and goes, the tenderness in her breasts has passed, and yet it takes a Lifetime movie to make her realize. 

“I thought I was pregnant,” the woman onscreen is saying, her head wrapped in a scarf to hide her hair loss from chemotherapy. Harry’s been silently crying for at least half the movie and sitting pressed up against her mom, who’s been carding a gentle hand through her hair. 

“I was vomiting every morning, had trouble sleeping, and it hurt to wear a bra most days, my chest was so tender,” the woman says, and Harry sits up suddenly, her stomach rolling. 

“Oh god,” she says, and runs to the bathroom to throw up her dinner. 

— 

She stands in the parking lot the next morning, shaking Louis off and pacing back and forth until Zayn screeches in. She sits in the driver’s seat and raises an eyebrow at Harry as she turns the engine off. 

She doesn’t say anything. Harry doesn’t expect her to. 

“I need a ride somewhere,” she says, wringing her hands together. “And I know last time wasn’t like — I messed it up, I know that, but I really need — I really need your help.” 

Zayn doesn’t respond right away. She gathers her things and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind her before leaning against it, arms crossed over her chest. “Must be desperate if you’re asking me.” 

Harry gnaws on her bottom lip, shifting from foot to foot. She is desperate, is the thing. If Zayn doesn’t give her a ride then she’ll have to ask Louis, which could be catastrophic, or her mom, which would be slightly less catastrophic but still terrible. “Please?” she asks eventually, giving Zayn her best pleading look. It works on her mom and her brother and Liam and sometimes even Louis. Zayn is new, though, and Harry doesn’t have a very good read on her yet. Or at all, really. 

“When?” Zayn says eventually, and Harry bites back a squeal. 

“Tomorrow? If that’s alright. We can, um. You can just pick me up at my house in the morning, if that works for you.” 

Zayn’s eyebrow arches even higher. “And skip school?” 

Harry sets her jaw. “My mom’ll call out for us.” She doesn’t know that, actually. She hasn’t even told her mom what she’s doing. Zayn gives her a look like she doesn’t believe her. 

“Please,” Harry says, trying not to beg. “I really need to go.” 

Zayn rolls her eyes and pushes off from her car. “Fine,” she says, walking past Harry in a haze of cigarette smoke and fancy floral perfume. “But don’t make it a habit.” 

— 

The Planned Parenthood is an hour away, almost at the state line. Zayn raises her eyebrows when Harry rattles off the address to put in her phone, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s too early. 

They don’t speak the whole way. Harry lets the music roar in her ears as she stares out the window, smiling occasionally at Zayn’s road rage. They make it up the street to the parking lot, and Harry thanks God that there are no protestors out today. She isn’t sure she’d be able to walk past them. 

“Harry,” Zayn says softly, staring at the sign. It’s huge, unmistakable. Harry doesn’t know what to say. 

Okay. She can think of one thing to say. “You can’t tell anyone. Alright?” 

She looks at Zayn, whose eyes have gone wide, a sad tilt to her mouth. She shakes her head. 

“I won’t,” she says, and Harry doesn’t know this girl from Adam, not really, but she believes her. Trusts her. “I promise.” 

“Good.” Harry flips her hood on and pulls out a huge pair of sunglasses, sliding them on her face. Zayn snorts. 

“Not suspicious at all,” she says, and Harry rolls her eyes. Not that Zayn can see it, of course, but Zayn’s smart enough that she probably knows Harry did it. 

“You don’t have to come,” she responds, and then it’s Zayn’s turn to roll her eyes as she pulls the keys from the ignition. 

“Fuck that,” she answers, and Harry only flinches a little. 

—

The clinic is cleaner than Harry expected, what with how people are always talking about how unsafe and dangerous they are. Everyone inside is incredibly kind and patient, soothing the shake of Harry’s hands as she fills out the forms. She’s only here for a pregnancy test, not an ultrasound or any other….procedure. They don’t ask for her insurance and Harry doesn’t offer it, having brought a stash of her carefully saved holiday money. They don’t end up charging her anything anyway, just let her pee in a cup and perform the test right in front of her. 

The paper turns blue. Harry’s throat closes up. 

“Oh god,” she says, clapping a hand over her mouth. She flails the other one, taking in deep, sucking breaths through her fingers. Zayn’s hand closes around hers and squeezes, her other hand resting between Harry’s shoulder blades. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” she says quietly, her voice and hand the only thing grounding Harry to the present. What the fuck is she going to do? 

“I can send a nurse to discuss some options with you, if you’d like,” the doctor says, smiling kindly. 

“No,” Harry says, shaking her head. “I don’t — I won’t have an — I’m going to have it.” 

The doctor nods. “Of course. Some pamphlets on adoption, then,” she says, and steps out of the room. Harry doesn’t really want those either, but she also can’t fathom actually having a child and taking care of it. She can’t even think about having to tell people. Telling her mom. 

Tears well up in her eyes. “My mom’s gonna kill me,” she says, choked, and Zayn shushes her, wraps her up in a hug and lets her cry. 

— 

Harry runs her fingers over the edges of the pamphlets all the way home. Zayn’s turned the music off, so the drive’s been mostly silent, except for her growled insults at other drivers. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Harry asks, staring out the window. She doesn’t want to see Zayn’s face for her reply. 

“Nah,” Zayn says. “Think you’re unlucky.” 

Harry laughs, but it sticks wetly in her throat. “It was only one time. With Liam. He —” She shakes her head, takes a deep breath and finally looks over. “He said he was having feelings. About boys. And I,” she laughs again, bitter this time. “I had this dream. Thought it was a sign.” 

Zayn doesn’t say anything, only presses her mouth in a thin line. 

“I didn’t even like it,” Harry whispers, closing her eyes, leaning back against the seat. 

Zayn doesn’t answer, and Harry doesn’t say anything else. 

— 

Louis gives her a strange look in the morning when she gets into the van, but doesn’t say anything. Probably because Niall’s in the back, and they both know that even though she’s absorbed in her phone, she’s listening to everything they say. 

“Missed you yesterday,” Louis says lightly, pulling out of the drive. 

“Yeah, I had an appointment,” Harry answers, trying not to shift uncomfortably. She spent most of the night avoiding looking at the pamphlets and avoiding interacting with her mom, in turn.

Louis hums and drops it. 

— 

Harry’s mom finds out like this:

She comes in when Harry’s on her bed, laptop beside her and textbooks scattered around. She’s been doing homework and carefully ignoring the presence of those pamphlets in her bedside drawer. Her mom stands in the doorway for who knows how long before she clears her throat and Harry sits up suddenly. 

“Oh,” she says, “you scared me.” 

“We need to talk,” her mom responds, and Harry’s stomach jumps into her throat. Her mom steps inside and closes the door — Harry doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anyone else lives with them, but whatever — and perches herself on the edge of Harry’s bed. 

“I got a phone call today,” she says, and Harry’s heart skips a beat. Someone knows. Someone saw them, saw her and Zayn at the clinic. What is she going to do? What’s she going to say? “From the school’s secretary. Calling to confirm your absence.” 

Harry doesn’t answer. She chews on her bottom lip and stares down at her hands instead. Maybe she won’t have to tell her mom where she was. Maybe if she cops to skipping school her mom won’t press. 

But Harry isn’t sure she wants to keep it a secret from her mom. She can’t imagine going through the next nine — or, no, seven months alone. She can’t imagine trying to get to her appointments by herself or having to hide her changing appetite and figure from someone as close to her as her mom is. 

“I was at a clinic,” she says, taking a deep breath. Her voice doesn’t shake, but her hands do, so she shoves them under her thighs. 

She can hear the frown in her mom’s voice when she says, “Why did you just tell me if you weren’t feeling well?” 

“Because I’m pregnant.” Harry pauses, waiting for a reaction and looking up when she doesn’t get one. Her mom looks like she’s frozen in place or turned to stone, maybe. Tears well up in Harry’s eyes, emotion clutching at her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do — ” 

And then her mom’s scooping her up, pulling Harry into a crushing hug. Harry cries for long minutes, letting her mother smooth her hair and whisper things to her. She feels wrung out once she’s pulled away, like a wet rag that’s been twisted too many times. 

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, tugging on a string on the bedspread. Her mom sighs, and doesn’t say anything for a moment. 

“Yes,” she responds eventually, and Harry looks up at her, eyes wide. She’s about to be kicked out of her house, she can feel it. “But only because you didn’t tell me right away.” 

Okay, maybe not kicked out. “Sorry,” she mumbles, flushing. “I was scared. I didn’t think — Not until we watched that movie.” 

Her mom gives her a look at sighs again. “What are they teaching you at that school?” It’s muttered, so Harry doesn’t answer. It was probably rhetorical anyway. 

“I’ll make you a real appointment for the end of the week,” she continues, patting Harry’s cheek. “We’ll get a sonogram to confirm and figure out what to do. Have you told Liam?” 

Harry blinks, flushes red again. “How did you guess?” 

Harry’s mom raises her eyebrow. “I know a thing or two about making children,” she answers primly, which makes Harry honk out a laugh. Her mom’s expression softens, and she smooths Harry’s curls down again. 

“Everything will be alright,” she says, and Harry mostly believes her. 

— 

The confirmation appointment isn’t until next week, and Harry spends every day until it happens distracted and nervous. She writes and re-writes letters to Liam — apparently they’ve taken his cell phone at this place, but he gets snail mail and weekly computer time — but doesn’t know what to say. 

_Dear Liam, remember that time we had premarital sex? Well, I’m pregnant!_

_Dear Liam, congrats, you’re going to be a dad!_

_Dear Liam, come home so you can help me raise our child_

Harry doesn’t even know if she wants to keep the child. She won’t have an abortion, she knows, not unless there’s something like, wrong. That happens sometimes, she’s heard. Babies die while they’re still inside and they have to induce labor to get them out. Mary, the middle-aged spinster who teaches Health class, has always called those abortions. Harry doesn’t agree. What life is she preserving if the child is already dead? 

God, but that’s morbid, so she really tries not to think about that. At all. 

No, she’s hoping for a healthy child that she can maybe put up for adoption, or something. Of course, everyone in school will probably notice when she gets fat, but maybe she can go on one of those like, retreats to Paris or whatever. Give her baby to the nuns. Except the thought of that makes Harry frown too. She doesn’t want some random French people adopting her baby. It’s her baby. God gave her this baby, and maybe it is kind of a punishment for screwing Liam, but maybe it’s not, also. 

Ugh. Harry is so not cut out for this sort of thought. She’s not even eighteen, for goodness’ sake! 

If Louis notices anything weird about her, she doesn’t mention it. She just picks Harry up as usual and takes her to school. They talk about their classes and not much else, and it’s hard for Harry, because there was a time she’d talk to Louis about everything. She can’t imagine how Louis would react to hearing that Liam got her pregnant. That she had actual premarital sex with him. She’d always acted a bit odd when Harry had boyfriends, even though all she ever did was hold hands with them. When she started dating Liam, though, and doing a bit more than hand-holding, it got stranger. Louis got distant and weird and would always shake off Harry’s attempts to hang out with her. She’d make weird comments about being a third wheel, and she seemed...hurt. Harry tried to talk to her about it, but talking to Louis about anything personal is like talking to a brick wall, most of the time. Or a snake, other times. Mostly Harry’s given up on that. 

She sees Zayn around quite a bit, always spares her a friendly smile when they pass in the halls. Zayn never returns it, but Harry figures she has some sort of bad girl reputation to uphold that doesn’t include acknowledging Harry’s existence in public. It stings a little, but also Harry knows they’re not like, friends. Zayn helped her in a tight spot and Harry owes her. That’s it. 

One day, though, Louis doesn’t come to school and Harry finds she has nowhere to sit for lunch. She looks around the cafeteria, wondering why it is she _doesn’t_ have other friends — _because Louis is kind of a bitch_ , her mind supplies and she squashes it — when she spots Zayn in the corner, wearing huge purple headphones and eating a sack lunch. Not the most ideal situation, but sitting alone at a table sounds even worse, so Harry takes a deep breath and makes her way over, plopping down in the seat across from her. 

Zayn glances up, one eyebrow raised. It’s the only indication of her surprise. Maybe she’s not surprised. 

“You’re not even going to ask?” she says, tone flat, sliding her headphones down and Harry feels her face flush. 

“Um, I’m sorry — Is it alright if —” 

Zayn rolls her eyes. “Free country, do what you want.” She goes back to her sandwich, a slight curve to the corner of her mouth, and Harry gets it. She’s joking. 

“Jerk,” Harry mutters, picking up her fork. Zayn laughs at her, and the sound of it makes Harry’s heart jump. 

“You been alright?” Zayn asks with a nod, “Since your...appointment?” 

Harry’s thankful for the discretion. She’s not sure if being pregnant is grounds for expulsion, specifically, but she really doesn’t want to have to go to school online, or whatever. She’s terrible at that sort of thing. 

“Yeah, been okay. Have another one next week.” She takes a bite of her chili fries, chewing through the nausea. It’s mostly from nerves, she can tell, and not from the food. She’s past the stage where she can’t eat anything, and now it’s more like she’d rather eat everything. All the time. She clears her throat, lowers her voice to say, “Gonna get a picture, and stuff. Hear the heartbeat.”

Zayn nods. She probably doesn’t care, Harry knows, but she’s the only one who knows about it and so she’s the only one Harry can actually like, talk to about it. Even if it’s weird half-sentences that won’t and can’t make sense to anyone else. 

“Cool,” Zayn says, and then pauses. “What are you gonna do when you start to show?” 

Oh god. “Um. I haven’t thought about it,” she says. “Buy new clothes?” 

Zayn nods again, and doesn’t speak for a moment. “If you need a ride to the mall, I’m there pretty much every weekend.” 

Tears well up in Harry’s eyes. Stupid pregnancy hormones. Stupid Zayn being kind. “Thanks,” she says, choked, and sniffs. 

Zayn looks at her, alarmed. “You don’t need to cry about it.” 

“I can’t help it,” Harry shoots back, which makes Zayn laugh again. 

— 

Harry’s greatest mistake, she’ll realize later, is the fact that she brought the sonogram picture to school. Later, she’ll think about it and try to pinpoint exactly why she thought she had to show Zayn at school or why she thought she could ever be sneaky enough to keep it fully out of sight and come to realize that she’s an idiot. That’s the only explanation. She hadn’t been thinking when she slipped it into her Math folder, and she hadn’t been thinking when she took the folder out of her locker with Louis standing right next to her. 

She hadn’t been thinking when she saw the paper flutter to the ground and didn’t immediately grab it. 

“What’s this?” Louis had asked, stooping to pick it up and then freezing in place once she’d realized. The look on her face was indecipherable when she lifted her head, and alarm bells blared in Harry’s head as Louis asked, “Why does it have your name on it?” 

“You can’t tell anyone,” was all Harry’d said, all she’d been able to say, really. The bell rung and Harry had snatched the paper out of Louis’ hands and run off. 

That was this morning. She was a few minutes late for her English class, and Louis slipped in even later than she had, giving the teacher a pathetic look and speaking to her quietly at her desk. Whatever she said was enough to get to her seat without reprimand, and Harry spent the whole class avoiding her gaze. Evading her throughout the day proves to be a bit trickier — Harry’s definitely never wanted to hide out in a custodial closet before, but she supposes she can check it off a list anyway — but Harry does it. She makes it to her last period class and thanks the Lord that it’s not one she has with Louis and that Louis picks up her brothers early and doesn’t take her home. She’ll have a whole night to think of more ways to avoid Louis tomorrow. 

Of course, Louis’ waiting for her in the parking lot after school. 

“Get in,” she says, when Harry stops three feet in front of her. 

Harry doesn’t move. “I thought you were picking up your brothers.” 

“Not today. Get in,” Louis says again, and it’s a lot less inviting than it should be. 

But, Harry has no other options, and should probably get this over with now rather than later. As much as she doesn’t want to. Sighing, she climbs into the van, buckling her seatbelt. 

“So,” Louis says, once they’ve driven in silence toward Harry’s house. “You screwed Liam.” 

Harry winces. “Yeah,” she says, pulling at a thread on her khakis. 

“You didn’t use a condom?” The incredulity in Louis’ voice surprises Harry. “You didn’t — You’re not on birth control?” 

“I didn’t plan it.” Harry frowns. “And why would I be on birth control? I’m not — It was only once! We had sex once, okay? It was stupid.” 

“I thought maybe if you were stupid enough to commit a mortal sin, you’d be at least smart enough to do it right,” Louis says, voice like venom. “But I see now how illogical that is. I can’t believe you. Harry. You’ve thrown everything away. You’re ruining your life.” 

It stings more than it should, Harry thinks. Because maybe she has messed everything up, maybe she made a colossal mistake, but hearing the heartbeat of her baby, knowing there’s a person living and growing inside of her — It doesn’t feel like a mistake. She could never, ever think that. 

“Maybe it’s God’s plan for me,” she says, and Louis laughs, condescending and mean. 

“Are you kidding? You really think God wants you to run around like a slut?” 

The air in Harry’s lungs rushes out all at once, as if Louis’ slammed on the brakes or possibly even just run her over with the van. It’s crushing, knowing what she thinks. Like, Harry knew she wouldn’t take it well, knew she’d be judgemental and awful and mean, but it’s one thing to know and another to be called a slut by your best friend. 

The silence in the van is deafening; Harry can only hear her own breathing and the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her head. Louis’ knuckles have gone white around the wheel and Harry still can’t breathe, still feels like there’s a stone slab sitting on her chest. Louis pulls into Harry’s driveway and puts the van in park. 

“Harry,” Louis says softly, and Harry doesn’t want to look at her, but she does. She looks sad, her bottom lip red from where she’s obviously been chewing on it, and for a brief, shining moment, Harry thinks maybe Louis is going to apologize. 

“I just can’t watch you sit by and ruin yourself in God’s eyes. You deserve His love.” 

It feels like a slap to the face. 

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” Harry grits out, and fumbles her way out of the car, up the front walk and into her house. 

Her mother finds her twenty minutes later when she opens the door, laying in the entryway, still crying. 

— 

After dinner, when Harry’s cozied up in her pajamas and hiding under her covers, she pulls out her phone, to type out a text to Zayn. _Need a ride to school tomorrow. Can you pick me up_?

Zayn’s reply comes in quicker than Harry thought. _Sure. Your usual busy_?

Harry bites down on her bottom lip. She doesn’t really feel like explaining the situation, because it makes her feel like even more of an idiot than usual, but she supposes Zayn deserves to know. Not over text, though. 

_It’s a long story. Tell you tomorrow. Thanks_!

Zayn doesn’t reply, but she shows up in the morning anyway, actually coming up to ring the doorbell. Harry manages a smile when she pulls the door open, but the bags under her eyes must look worse in the morning light, because Zayn’s eyebrows pop to the top of her forehead. 

“Bad night?” she asks, and Harry laughs. 

“Awful,” she replies, and doesn’t offer anything else. Zayn takes it in stride and lets her be while they drive to school. Louis’ van is in its usual spot when they get there, and Zayn’s eyebrows quirk again, but she doesn’t ask. 

“Sit with me at lunch if you need to,” she says instead, and Harry gives her a nod and a thanks as she slips out the door and into the school. 

She manages to avoid Louis most of the day, but it turns out it doesn’t actually matter. The one time they pass in the hall, Louis doesn’t even make eye contact with her. Harry should have guessed, really. Louis was always the type to get passive aggressive when mad, especially with her parents or whatever. It’s just that she’s never really been this pissed at Harry, so she doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s sort of like knowing there’s a spider in the cabinet but it hasn’t run out yet. Harry feels like she’s just staring into the dark, tensed in fear. 

It’s nice to remember that Louis wouldn’t hurt her, though. Not intentionally and not in a major way.

Once, when Harry and Louis were little, probably eight or so, Harry had her first sleepover ever at Louis’. Louis’ mom was still married to Mark then, and Charlie was only two, so it was a quiet night. They ordered a pizza with pineapple on it and got to watch all of their favorite Disney movies and paint each other’s nails with glittery nail polish, and slept on the living room floor together in a big pile of blankets and pillows. Louis had snuck a flashlight in, and threw the covers over their heads and clicked it on, creating a strange little cocoon for them. Harry can still remember what it was like to be in there with her, legs tangled together as they whispered secrets to each other. 

Harry also remembers that Louis had invited other girls in their grade — Samantha and Tiffany and Lillian — but only Harry had shown up. She can remember the slight sag to Louis’ shoulders as the night wore on, and she can remember how sad it made her, how much she wanted to make Louis smile and laugh and be happy. 

“You’re my best friend, Louis,” she’d whispered under the covers, her fingers brushing Louis’, then squeezing as Louis held on. “I like that it was just us. Want you all to myself.” 

Louis had laughed and kept her hold tight on Harry. “Yeah,” she’d said, her face too close for Harry to see her expression. “You’re my best friend too. I’m glad you came.” 

Harry could never forget the warm feeling in her belly when Louis had said that, how happy she’d felt, and not just because she’d made Louis happy. She trusted Louis and Louis trusted her. That was worth something in elementary school, and worth even more the older they got. As far as Harry knew, they hadn’t stopped trusting each other. Even while fighting. 

— 

It becomes routine. Zayn picks Harry up in the mornings and takes her to school. She goes to class, ignores Louis ignoring her and sits with Zayn at lunch and goes home at the end of each day. Rinse, repeat. It’s easy to lose herself in her school work for a few weeks, especially with how mid-terms creep up on them, and the pressure of college applications looming in the distance. 

Harry doesn’t know if she wants to go to college, she doesn’t even know if she could, with a baby to take care of, and the more she thinks about it the more anxious she gets so she just doesn’t. 

It starts to get too difficult to avoid around Halloween, though, when her belly gets so big that her school clothes don’t fit. 

“I think I need to go to the mall,” she says one day, plopping into her chair at the lunch table. Zayn doesn’t even look up from her note book, but Harry knows she’s listening. Niall’s there too, but she doesn’t respond either. 

Harry rolls her eyes. “Uh, hello?” God, at least Louis always paid attention to her when she spoke. Always made sure Harry knew she’d heard her or whatever. Even if all she said was “shut up” or something. It’s reassuring in its own way. Way better than speaking into two different voids at once. 

“We can go Saturday afternoon,” Zayn finally answers, not looking up from whatever it is she’s doing. “I’ll pick you up.” 

“Cool,” Harry answers, and then turns to Niall. “You coming too?” 

Niall raises an eyebrow, like she’s surprised Harry’s speaking to her. Whatever, Harry’s totally talked to her before. Probably. They like, have conversations at lunch as a group! That counts. 

“You’re inviting me?” she asks, and Harry frowns. 

“Yes? Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” 

Niall shrugs. “You haven’t before.” 

“When have I ever gone to the mall before?” 

“I mean like, before when you were still friends with Louis,” Niall says, waving a hand. Harry feels like a bucket of ice water’s just been dumped on her head. She and Louis were never that great at including people, true, but also, they’re not not friends. 

“We’re still friends,” Harry says, “we’re just like. Fighting.” 

Niall raises an eyebrow. “It’s been like a month since you’ve talked to her.” 

“What are you, Friendship watch?” Harry scoffs. “We’re friends, okay, it’s just like. Hard right now.” 

Niall nods. “Because you’re pregnant.” 

The world tips, Harry grabs the edge of her chair so she doesn’t fall out of it. She looks at Zayn, who’s staring at Niall with wide eyes. 

“You told her?” Harry asks, “You told her.” 

Zayn shakes her head frantically. “No, no. I wouldn’t, I promised.” 

“Who told you?” It couldn’t have been Louis. She’s mad at Harry, but she’s not cruel. Not like this, anyway. She wouldn’t spread it around or — or try to make Harry’s life terrible, no matter how mad she was. 

“I figured it out,” Niall says, rolling her eyes. “You’re like — You were practically a stick and now you’re all —” Niall waves a hand, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not that difficult.” 

Oh, crap. Harry shoves her face into her hands. “Do you think anyone else knows?” Harry asks, muffled. 

“Maybe? Probably not. People here don’t really like, think about things like that, I think.” 

Harry’s sort of the case in point, really. Not wearing a condom to help her boyfriend get over his gay thoughts. God. What was she thinking? 

She takes a deep breath and reemerges. “Okay.” A pause. “So, mall Saturday?” 

Niall laughs, and it’s a bright sound, like she actually thinks what Harry’s said is funny. 

“Sure,” she says, and goes back to her lunch. 

— 

The mall is crowded as anything, which Harry should have guessed, since it’s the weekend before Halloween and the middle of a Saturday. 

“Do you think I should paint a fishbowl on my stomach and walk around like that for Halloween?” she asks, flicking through shirts at Nordstrom’s. Her mom gave her some money, not a lot, definitely not enough for anything in here, but it’s nice to dream. 

Zayn raises an eyebrow at her. “You celebrate Halloween?” 

Harry raises one back. “Everyone celebrates Halloween.” 

“Eh, not really,” Niall says, plucking the tiny pink hat off her head and replacing it with a wide brimmed blue one. The brim flops over her eyes when she turns to them. “Really religious people don’t. And like, Jehovah’s Witnesses and stuff. They don’t celebrate anything.” 

Harry rolls her eyes. “Yes Niall, I know. We were in the same World Religions class.” 

Niall shrugs and puts the hat back, leaving her blonde hair mussed in its braid. “Just saying,” she says, and Zayn knocks her elbow into Harry’s side. 

“Ow,” she says pointedly. 

“Go easy on her,” Zayn says, ignoring Harry’s pain. “She’s like. She’s nice, okay?” 

“I’m nice!” Harry scoffs, offended when Zayn doesn’t respond. “I’m super nice,” she says. “I’m the picture of politeness.” 

“Maybe compared to Louis,” Zayn mutters, and Harry pinches her in the softest part of her arm. Ironically, something she learned _from_ Louis. Whatever. 

“Say I’m nice,” she says, and Zayn rolls her eyes. 

“You _are_ nice.” Harry smiles, smug. But then Zayn continues, “To like, old ladies and teachers and Pastor John or whoever and stuff. But you haven’t been nice to Niall.” 

Harry blinks and looks over to Niall, who’s still trying on hats. Now that Zayn mentions it, she can’t actually remember a single conversation she’s ever had with Niall where she hasn’t rolled her eyes or gotten frustrated or been like, rude. 

“Oh no,” Harry says, distressed. “I’m not nice.” 

“Oh God.” Zayn’s eyes go wide. “You’re like. Don’t get a complex, okay? You haven’t been mean. You’re not — like other people. You just. Could try a little harder. Whatever.” 

“Right, okay, I can do that.” Harry nods, shoves the blouse in her hands back on the rack and marches over to the hat rack. Niall’s got another huge hat on, tan this time. A classic sun hat, perfect for the beach. 

“That one looks really cute on you.” 

Niall’s eyes widen in the mirror, and she turns to look at Harry. “Really?” 

“For sure,” Harry says, like she knows anything at all about fashion. She touches the brim of the hat, lifting it so she can see Niall’s face better and gives her a smile. “Super cute.” 

Niall’s cheeks flush. “Thanks,” she says quietly, and puts the hat back before scurrying to a different part of the store. Harry frowns after her. 

“I said be nice to her,” Zayn says, sounding like she’s one second away from laughing. “Not flirt with her.” 

“Shut up,” Harry responds, giving Zayn a shove and following Niall. Flirting. What _ever_. She wasn’t flirting. She wouldn’t even know how to flirt with a girl, first of all, and she didn’t do anything differently than she’d do with Zayn or Louis. Louis wouldn’t have thought she was _flirting_. 

_Louis’ perception is probably a little skewed compared to Zayn’s_ , a voice in Harry’s head says, and Harry frowns. Why is she even thinking about this? She doesn’t need to be. She needs to focus on buying clothes that fit. 

— 

She drags Niall and Zayn into the JC Penney’s, because it’s the only store that sells khakis suitable enough for school and they’re usually on sale. She gets a couple of pairs of them, and a fancy thing for her belly that’s supposed to smooth the look under her clothes and provide support, or something. Harry’s always had a terrible back, and she’s not looking forward to that getting worse the bigger the baby gets. 

“We should go in here,” Niall says, standing outside Old Navy. 

“Is any of that dress code?” Harry asks, eyeing the mannequins wearily. Not that any of it’s ugly or anything — in fact, the floral dress she’s looking at is really cute, even if it is too short and the straps are too skinny. Maybe if it’s cheap she could get it for like, the weekends. Or she could wear it to school with tights and a sweater! 

“Ummmm,” Niall is saying, but Harry shakes her head. 

“Nevermind, we’re going in,” she says, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the doors. Zayn trails in behind them, glancing at the pastels and wincing. The three of them separate, Zayn wandering toward the accessories and Niall drawn toward a big display of t-shirts. 

Harry beelines for the dresses, flicking through them nervously before finding the same one on the display. It’s navy blue with yellow flowers on it, and it’s on sale and Harry swears she has a pair of tights and a sweater that would go with it perfectly. She takes it off the rack and throws it over her arm, feeling pleased as she makes her way past the socks and shirts to the register. 

One catches her eye, though. It’s a t-shirt, white and black striped horizontally, and it’s longer in the back than in the front. It’s also got weird slits up the side, so you’d have to wear a cami under it at school, but it’s still — It’s cute, and as easily as Harry can picture herself wearing it, she can see Louis in it even more clearly. 

She’s not sure what makes her decide to grab it off the shelf. She just knows that she does and when she takes it to the register it turns out it’s on clearance and she has a hard time justifying _not_ getting it. Besides, if Louis doesn’t want it then Harry can just wear it herself. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

— 

It’s not fine. 

Harry walks up to Louis’ locker the following Monday, shirt folded nicely in her bag. She even took the time to wash it beforehand, because she knows Louis doesn’t like to wear brand new clothes because of the smell, or whatever. 

“Hey.” 

Louis glances at her, flicks her gaze down Harry’s body and looks back into the locker. “Nice outfit. Hides the bump well.” 

Harry swallows, tugging on the skirt of her dress. “I got something for you,” she says, digging around her bag. She pulls out the shirt, holds it out. Louis stares at it. 

“Why?” she asks, and Harry frowns. 

“I saw it and thought you would like it. Why else?” 

“I don’t know,” Louis says, closing her locker and leaning against it. “Are you sure it’s not an olive branch or whatever? You trying to get on my good side?” 

Harry blinks at her. “What?” 

“I’m just saying,” Louis shrugs, examining her nails. “We haven’t hung out in a while. Just thought you might be trying to apologize or something.” 

Harry crumples the shirt in her hand and shoves it back in her back, cheeks flaming with how suddenly angry she’s gotten. No, it’s not only anger. The anger’s hot, fire coursing through her veins, but there’s something else too. Something heavy, weighing on her chest. Disappointment. Humiliation. All of the above. 

She should have known better. 

“I’m not the one who needs to apologize,” she says, though she sounds less angry than she’d like, and more like she’s about to cry. Which, really, she is. “That’s you.” 

Louis’ gaze hardens. “I’m not the one who’s done anything wrong,” she says, and Harry laughs, but it feels punched out of her. 

“You — You were horrible to me! You said horrible things,” Harry says, “You’re my best friend and you called me stupid. A slut.” 

“I can’t apologize for the truth,” Louis says lightly, and Harry’s never ever even considered hitting another person out of anger, but it takes everything she has in that moment not to slap Louis in the face. 

“Screw you!” she shouts instead, and that’s when she notices the whole hallway’s gone dead quiet. 

“Ladies,” Pastor John says calmly from the other end of the hall. “Do we have a problem here?” 

— 

It’s fitting that the first time Harry ever gets detention, it’s with Louis. 

They only got one day, for “making a scene in a public space” and “profanity” — Harry wanted to point out that she could have said something a lot worse, but somehow didn’t think Pastor John would be receptive — and it’s fairly easy. They have to clean up the gym after the pep rally for the football game. 

“Usually the janitors would do this,” Pastor John says, handing them both a pair of flimsy latex gloves. “But I decided to give them the night off.” 

“How nice of you,” Louis mutters and Harry bites her lip to keep from laughing. 

“I want this place spotless,” Pastor John says, ignoring Louis and handing Harry a broom. “So clean you could eat off it.” 

Harry doesn’t mention that she wouldn’t eat off this floor no matter how clean it was because she thinks it probably wouldn’t help anything, and she doesn’t want to get into even more trouble. 

Pastor John leaves the gym after that and Harry sets in on sweeping up the streamers on the floor. She hears footsteps on the bleachers, and yeah, that’s not surprising. Louis’ probably just going to sit and watch Harry do all the work, because that’s what she always does any time they have to do something. Harry offers to do the dishes at Louis’ house? Louis sits on the counter with a towel and “dries them”. Harry offers to clean the blackboards after school for community service? Louis sits on a spare desk and watches. So, she’s not expecting to hear the scratch of Louis’ broom against the metal and plastic. She actually turns to look, staring for a moment before Louis notices and gives her an _uh, hello_ look, that makes her remember she’s supposed to be doing something. 

They work in silence for a while, Harry slowly making her way around the gym floor, sweeping all the ribbons and confetti into a big pile in the center, right on top of the picture of the eagle. She sneaks glances at Louis, who’s making her way from top to bottom, sweeping the debris quite violently down the steps. Harry figures she’s got some stuff to work through. 

By the time she’s gotten every scrap of trash into her pile and started scooping it into the trash can, her back’s twinging and she’s got a sweat worked up. She’s put her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head, but it doesn’t keep the sweat from rolling into her eyes. She can’t believe Pastor John is making them do manual labor in long sleeve shirts and khakis. Okay, she can, but still. Annoying. 

“You okay?” 

Harry turns to look at Louis, who’s hardly broken a sweat. It’s fine. She doesn’t have a person inside her cranking the heat up. 

“Yeah, fine,” Harry says, and turns back around, crouching down to pick up the next pile of ribbons. “Let’s get this done so we can go.” 

“Okay,” Louis answers, and appears in Harry’s periphery, her arms full of more trash. She can see Louis glancing at her sideways, her brow furrowed, and if Harry knew she weren’t completely pissed at her, she might think Louis was actually concerned about something. 

“What?” 

Louis shrugs. “Is that okay for...you know,” she says, gesturing vaguely. Harry has no idea what she’s talking about. 

“What?” she asks again, tone shorter this time around. 

“Is it okay for the baby?” Louis asks, rolling her eyes. It catches Harry so off guard that she doesn’t answer for a moment, just stares. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Louis snaps, “I can ask a question.” 

“Sure,” Harry answers finally, still blinking off her shock. “But I don’t have to answer.” 

Hurt flashes over Louis’ face, and for one brief second Harry thinks, _good_. But Louis is her oldest friend, her best friend, and she wants to be petty, she really does, but she also doesn’t want to lose her. She’s just so tired of being the one who apologizes first, or at all. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Louis says, before Harry can say anything else. She looks at her, eyes wide, but Louis is looking down at her hands clasped around her broom. “About those things I said. They were. Mean.” 

Harry’s breath punches out of her chest. That sounded like an apology. This can’t be real life. “Um,” she says, but it doesn’t matter because Louis keeps talking. 

“It was a shock, okay? And I know that’s not an excuse and I know I can’t make it about me, but like. You’re my best friend, Harry.” 

She looks up and Harry’s breath catches in her throat. Louis looks so open, so vulnerable in a way that she’s hardly ever been, even with Harry. Especially with Harry, maybe. 

“Then why did you say those things?” Harry asks, her voice breaking. “I mean, I love you, Louis, you’re my best friend too but that really hurt. It really hurt.” 

“I don’t know,” Louis says, shrugging helplessly. “I — You’re like. You have everything, Harry. Your mom loves you, your boyfriend’s sweet and cute and popular and people want to be friends with you. You’re gorgeous —” Louis breaks off, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Harry has to suppress a shiver at being called _gorgeous_. That’s definitely not what she should be focusing on. 

“It was just hard to hear you say it, okay? You have everything and it was like, just such a careless mistake. Like you’re throwing everything away,” Louis continues and Harry shakes her head. 

“No. I mean, yes, it was a mistake, but I’m not throwing anything away, Louis. I’m — I have options.” 

Louis raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re really going to give that baby up for adoption.” 

“Maybe.” Harry flushes. “I don’t know. I have time to decide. That’s not the point,” she says, stepping closer to Louis. “The point is that I can do what I want. And if I do raise the baby, it’ll be good. I’ll like, love her. Or him. They?” 

Louis rolls her eyes fondly and steps in, slinging an arm around Harry’s waist. It’s a familiar gesture, but she hasn’t done it for months, it feels like and Harry melts into the embrace, her arm going around Louis’ shoulders. 

“I’m just worried about you,” Louis says quietly, “and really bad at showing it.” 

“You don’t think God’s punishing me?”

Louis scoffs. “I guess He’ll just have to punish us both.” 

Harry squeezes Louis into a hug, smiling so widely her cheeks twinge. Anyone else, and Harry wouldn’t believe them. Anyone else and Harry would be rolling her eyes and scoffing, but this is Louis, who never apologizes and when she does she really means it. It’s impossible for Harry not to trust her, and sure, maybe she’ll regret it, but right now she doesn’t. Right now, she’s just happy to have her best friend back. 

— 

When Louis pulls into the parking lot the next Monday, the first thing Harry notices is that Zayn’s purple car isn’t there yet, and someone else has parked in her spot. An old blue civic, the paint faded on the hood and just beginning to peel and the familiar REAL MEN LOVE JESUS bumper sticker on the back. 

“Oh my god,” Harry says, and looks to Louis, who’s eyes are as wide as Harry’s feel. “Did you know about this? That he was coming back.” 

Louis shakes her head. “No. I hadn’t heard anything. I — Are you gonna be okay?” 

Harry swallows around the lump in her throat, staring at Liam’s empty car. She hadn’t even gotten a phone call, no post cards besides the first one. 

“I’ll be fine,” Harry says, though she doesn’t know if she believes it. 

— 

She doesn’t actually see him until just before lunch, when she’s leaving Math and heading toward the cafeteria. She forgets for a moment that he’s been gone. She sees him down at the end of the hallway, gaze cast toward the floor and shoulders hunched, and thinks, _oh, there’s Liam_. 

Of course, then she remembers that he’s been gone for four months and they haven’t spoken and she’s missed him, she’s _missed_ him. 

“Liam,” she calls, her heart jumping into her throat when he looks up at her. His hair’s been cut short, close to his head but not buzzed, looking soft and wonderful and his eyes are huge, spooked. She laughs, and runs toward him anyway. Liam catches her around the waist and pulls her close. 

“I missed you,” she says, squeezing as tightly as she can. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.” 

Liam’s arms take a moment to come up and wrap around her, but they do and he clings to her, his hands digging into her shoulders. 

“I missed you too,” he mumbles into her hair, and Harry laughs, and holds on tighter. When they pull apart, Harry can see Louis over Liam’s shoulder, standing at the end of the hallway. She tries to catch her gaze and smile, but Louis turns quickly and walks away.

— 

Harry catches up with her between seventh period and eighth at Louis’ locker, where she’s shoving things into her bag with a little more force than usual. 

“Hey,” Harry says, wary, leaning against the other lockers. 

Louis doesn’t even look at her. “Hi.” 

Harry frowns. “Everything alright? Did you have a bad class?” 

“Class was fine.” Louis closes her locker. “You can get a ride today, right? It’s my day to pick up the boys.” 

Harry blinks. She thought they were past all this. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Louis says, but her tone is off. She turns and walks down the hallway, but Harry follows her, lengthening her strides to keep up. Louis can really move when she wants to. 

“Hey, we’re not doing this again, Louis,” she says, following her out the main doors and into the parking lot. “You have to talk to me.” 

“There’s really nothing to talk about,” Louis says, sounding exasperated. “I’m just in a rush.” 

_Bullshit_ , Harry thinks, and circles around the van to get in the passenger’s seat. Louis stares at her as she pulls the seatbelt over herself. 

“What are you doing?” 

Harry looks at her. “I’m going with you.” 

Louis’ mouth goes thin. “You’re not.” 

“I am.” 

Louis rolls her eyes. “You’ll miss class.” 

Harry shrugs. “I’m not getting out.” 

With a groan, Louis starts the van and pulls out. The drive to the school is quiet, almost unbearably tense, but Harry doesn’t want to start this conversation when they’ll just be interrupted by Louis’ brothers. 

They pile in once Louis makes it around to where they are, all arguing about something or other. Harry smiles at them in the rearview mirror, and — in true Tomlinson fashion — Charlie, the eldest, sticks his tongue out at her. He’s just annoyed she’s taken his seat. He’ll live. 

By the time they make it back to Louis’ house, Harry feels like she’s about to scream. Louis hasn’t said a single word and her brothers have been yelling the whole time and it’s a ten minute drive at most, but still, when she pulls into the driveway and opens the automatic door, Harry breathes a little easier. 

The boys run up to the house and Louis sits, her hands still clenched around the wheel as she watches them. Harry looks at her, really looks at her for the first time in a while. She looks tired, the bags under her eyes a bit more pronounced, and slightly thinner. Like she hasn’t been eating or sleeping well. It makes Harry frown. 

“Hey,” she says softly, reaching out to grab Louis’ wrist gently, sliding her fingertips over the thin skin on the inside. Louis sighs, grasping Harry’s fingers with her own. Something in Harry’s chest expands, filling her up with a floaty feeling. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Louis closes her eyes, head resting against the seat. “It’s stupid.” 

“I don’t care.” Harry squeezes her fingers. “Seriously, come on. You can tell me anything.” 

Louis sighs, and looks at her. “I don’t know. I just thought — Liam’s back.” 

Oh. Harry gets it. Well, she thinks she does, at least. “And you thought, what? I’d ditch you?” 

Louis shrugs, but doesn’t deny it. 

“Things with Liam are — ” Harry frowns. “ — Complicated. I mean. We haven’t even — I don’t know if we’re still together. If he wants to be.” 

“Do you want to be?” 

Harry looks away, out the window. “I don’t know,” she says eventually. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. I have to talk to him about it. But regardless — ” She looks back, squeezing Louis’ hand again. “ — I’m not planning on ditching you. Now or ever, okay?” 

Louis rolls her eyes, but her cheeks pink up, like she’s pleased. “Fine,” she says, and pulls her hand from Harry’s. “Come on, before the monsters eat all the snacks.” 

— 

Harry remembers the day Liam moved to town. Or, not the exact day he moved, but when he started school. It was the middle of the semester, which was weird enough, but he was quiet and skinny and Harry remembers how fast he was, even in sixth grade when really all that was at stake was a passing grade. She remembers watching him run with the boys, pulling ahead of them and staying ahead of them, even Jacob Peters, who, until then, held the sixth grade boy’s record for their end of year races. He didn’t speak to anyone for probably two weeks, and it wasn’t until Harry sat down with him at lunch one day that she heard his voice. 

Louis and Liam had always had a bit of a difficult time getting along — Louis was wary of anyone new, and she especially didn’t like boys because most of them spent their time making fun of her, so it took a while before she started to really trust Liam at all. But soon, they were all friends. They’d go to the movies and go bowling and go to Liam’s house once a month for a sleepover. It was easy and nice and felt right, so when Liam asked Harry to the winter formal their sophomore year, she didn’t think about it. That felt right too, even though Louis started acting weird again. It was also around the time that her step-dad left, so Harry figured it was mostly to blame, and wrote it off. 

And this time, well. Louis’ told her what’s wrong, didn’t she? She was just worried about Harry ditching her, but Harry’s told her she’s not going to and she intends to keep that promise. 

— 

Liam fits back in easily, just slides into Harry’s periphery like he was never gone. It’s strange to think about, the fact that he’s really not that much different. He was always quiet before, especially in school, but Harry supposes it’s a different sort of quiet now. A sad sort of quiet instead of a thoughtful one. She’s not sure how to even approach him with something like that. 

Besides, she doesn’t see him all that often, really. They don’t have many classes together, as it turns out, and so the only time they get a chance to talk is lunch. Except, Liam doesn’t come to lunch his first week back, which leaves Harry feeling out of sorts. It doesn’t help that Louis keeps sitting at their usual table all alone, even when Harry gets up halfway through the meal to go talk to Zayn and Niall. Louis always refuses her invitation and leaves the cafeteria to go somewhere. Probably the library, or something. 

Friday, Harry catches her arm before she can go anywhere. 

“Come over there with me,” she says, squeezing Louis’ wrist. “Please?” 

Louis shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “Why? They’re your friends.” 

“They could be yours too,” Harry says, raising her eyebrows. “If you wanted them to be.” 

“Jeezum crow, Harry.” Louis rolls her eyes. “This isn’t a Hallmark movie. They don’t like me because I’m a jerk. It’s fine.” 

Harry frowns. “You’re not a jerk.” 

Louis raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, you’re not a jerk all the time, and I think,” she says, grabbing Louis’ shoulders and steering her toward the table, “that if you _tried_ , you might really like them. And they’d like you.” 

“I —” 

“Hey guys!” Harry squeezes Louis’ shoulders and nudges her toward the seat. “What’s up?” 

Zayn raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look up from her notebook and Niall glances up, still chewing her fries. No one says anything for a long moment before Niall speaks again. 

“I like your shoes,” she says to Louis, “Been meaning to tell you that. Are they Vans?” 

Louis blinks, glances at Harry before answering, “Yeah. Got them when school started.” 

Niall nods, and goes back to her fries. Louis stares at her for a moment before clearing her throat. “I like, um. Your shirt. It’s nice.” 

Niall turns pink as she mumbles out a thanks. The table falls quiet, save for the click of Zayn’s pen. 

“So,” Harry says, “what are we doing this weekend?” 

Niall shrugs. “No plans.” 

“Zayn?” 

“Watching my brothers,” she responds, and Louis looks up quickly. 

“You have brothers?” 

The look Zayn gives her is cautious at best. “Yeah. Two younger, one older.” 

“I’m the oldest,” Louis continues, “of um, five. All boys except for me.” 

Zayn’s eyebrows raise, and Niall lets out a low whistle. 

“Your parents really believe in the no birth control thing, huh?” Zayn says, and Harry grabs Louis’ hand under the table, squeezing. They’re having such a nice time, it’d be a shame to ruin it with bloodshed. 

“Guess so,” Louis answers with a shrug, “but I don’t know. I don’t make it a point to ask them about their sex life.” 

“Fair enough,” Zayn says, and goes back to her notebook. Harry breathes a sigh of relief, frowning when she feels a tug on her hand. Except it’s just Louis, pulling her hand away. Harry forgot that she was holding it. Awkward.

“You could — You could all come over to my house, if you wanted,” Louis says quietly. Hesitantly. She glances at Harry, who nods encouragingly. 

“I’m there,” she says, and looks at Niall, who shrugs and nods. Zayn takes a bit longer to decide, but eventually nods as well. Louis doesn’t really look any less nervous, though. Harry wants to squeeze her hand again, try to reassure her, but also doesn’t want to be a creep. Or scare Louis off. 

She settles for a beaming smile when Louis glances at her, and hopes for the best. 

— 

Harry brings Liam home for dinner on Friday, hoping that her mom won't be mad or yell at home or whatever. Not that she really thinks her mom would react that way, but she can never be sure. 

Turns out that it doesn't matter, since the house is empty and there's a note on the fridge. 

_Working late, dinner in the fridge. Love._

Sighing, Harry takes the paper off and crumbles it, tossing it into the trashcan. She opens the freezer and takes out the dinner, setting it on the stove top while she adjusts the settings on the oven and lets it preheat. Liam stands as she does it, hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets. 

“So,” he says. “How have you been?” 

Harry snorts. “I’ve been pregnant, Liam. Still am.”

Liam winces. “Right. Sorry.” 

“It’s…” Well, Harry doesn’t want to say it’s alright, because it really isn’t, but she’s also not like, mad at Liam. No more mad at him than at herself, at least. “How have you been? How was — um. That place.” 

Liam chews on his bottom lip, shrugging. “I don’t know. There were people who had it worse than me, who — I don’t know.” 

That’s not really an answer, but Harry doesn’t want to push him, not when he’s just got back. But she is interested in one thing. “They let you come home early? Or was your thing just shorter?” 

“They read your letter before they gave it to me,” Liam says, and Harry stares at him. 

“They censored your mail?” It’s a horrifying thought. 

Liam shrugs. “They didn’t mark anything out, but I suppose just checked it for like. Contraband or whatever.” 

Harry can’t even begin to imagine. “And if there was something they didn’t like in it they what, just threw it away? Liam, that’s illegal.” 

“It’s not like I was there by choice,” Liam spits back, making Harry blink in shock. Liam frowns immediately. “Sorry,” he says, “It’s just — It was hard. I don’t know. They let me come home when they read the letter. Said I was okay after all.” 

“Because you got me pregnant.” 

Liam shrugs, helplessly. “I don’t know. I guess.” 

The oven beeps, distracting Harry from answering. Not that she even really has an answer to that. The fact that a place like that exists at all is enough to unsettle her, and thinking about how twisted it is to send someone home just because they got a girl pregnant — ugh. 

Harry busies herself with putting dinner in the oven and trying to think of something else to talk about. 

— 

“I think I like both.” 

Harry frowns at Liam where he’s laying on her bed. They migrated in here after eating to catch up on MasterChef. Currently, Gordon Ramsay’s talking about how he prefers a chocolate souffle to a classic one. Somehow, Harry doesn’t think that’s what Liam’s talking about. “Can you like both?” 

Liam’s cheeks pink up. “I don’t see why not. I mean. I do like boys, but I liked — what we did. You know.” 

“Oh.” Harry’s brow furrows. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Liam pauses. “Didn’t you?” 

She didn’t, is the thing. It was fast and it hurt and it was just like, not what she thought it would be. It was weird, and awkward and she’s heard that’s how first times are supposed to be, but she still thought she might like, want to do it again, afterward. Try again. She doesn’t want to try again. Not with Liam and not with anyone else. 

“Not really,” she says, wincing. Liam doesn’t look offended, though. Only thoughtful. 

“I think girls aren’t supposed to like it the first time,” he says. “We could try again.” 

“Liam,” Harry says, flatly. “I’m five months pregnant.” 

Liam’s cheeks go a deeper pink. “Not right now, obviously,” he mumbles. “I meant like, later. After the baby’s born.” 

Harry pauses. “Sorry, but. What do you think’s going to happen when I have the baby?” 

Liam frowns. “You’re giving it up for adoption, right? I mean, Harry. You can’t — You want to raise it?” 

Something in Liam’s tone makes Harry frown, feel defensive. “Would that be so awful?” She’s not an idiot. She loves kids; she could probably raise one. 

“We’re so young,” Liam says, “Too young to get married.”

Okay. What? Harry raises her eyebrows at him. “Who says we’re getting married?”

“Well you can’t raise it alone, and I won’t let you.” Liam’s frown deepens. “But, listen. This is — We’ve got to do it right. I want to go to college and — and get a job before I have kids.” 

Harry stands, stung. “You should’ve thought of that before you fucked me without a condom,” she bites out. It’s crude and it’s not really what she means. She’s not sure what she means, or what’s rubbing her in such a wrong way. The implication that they’ll still be together after this? The implication that they’d give up a child and then have more? She doesn’t know. 

Liam’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. There’s a long pause, and eventually Liam stands. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “For — For all of it. You’re right. I’m just — I’m gonna go.” 

Harry deflates, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry too, okay? That wasn’t fair. I really — I’m not mad at you, okay?” She’s not. She’s really, really not. “I’m just. It’s hard. I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

Liam nods, and Harry hugs him when he stands, squeezing him tight. He laughs, kisses the top of her head and she lets go. 

“I’ve got an appointment next week. Sonogram. If you want to come,” she says, offering a smile. Liam blinks at her, looks down at her stomach and back up. 

“You sure?” 

Harry nods. “Yeah, definitely. If you want. No pressure, though.” 

Liam nods again. “Of course,” he says. “I’m always there for you Harry. No matter what.” 

It’s classic Liam, reliable and kind and always doing the right thing. Harry knows he’d marry her if she wanted, if she brought it up. They could have a nice life together too, a cute home with cute kids. And Liam’s good; she could do worse for a husband. 

But she’s not sure she wants a husband, is the thing. She’s not sure she wants to get married or raise kids, and if she did, she doesn’t want Liam. There’s this thing, see, that whenever she pictures her future, Louis’ always there. Louis, not Liam. But she can’t ask Louis to raise a child with her, not when Louis deserves her own life and not to get roped into her best friend’s bad choices. 

God. Whatever. She’ll figure it out. She just has to take it one day at a time. One day at a time.

— 

Zayn’s in the van on Monday morning when Louis shows up to take Harry to school. 

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking a few times at Zayn, who smiles and waves at her like she’s happy, or something. She pulls the back door open and slides in, thankful that Louis’ already dropped her brothers off for the day. She wouldn’t want to sit back here with them. “Your car messed up or something?” 

“Nah,” Zayn replies. “Louis offered and I accepted.” 

Harry frowns, glancing over to Louis, who shrugs. “We were at the mall and I just thought it might be nice —” 

“You were at the _mall_? Together?” What the heck is happening? Harry feels like she’s stepped into the Twilight Zone. Louis and Zayn hardly said two words to each other last week and now they’re hanging out at the mall together? Without Harry? 

“Yeah, on Saturday,” Zayn answers, and Harry still feels like she’s reeling. She makes a non-committal sort of noise and frowns out the window. It’s not that she’s jealous, obviously, because that would be stupid. She just didn’t know they were hanging out and like, they’re her best friends. She feels like she should know that sort of thing. 

But, whatever. Zayn and Louis being friends is clearly a good thing! That means they can all hang out together and it won’t be weird. Louis will stop acting so oddly and Harry will get to spend time with two great people. It’s a win-win. Obviously. 

So she’s not entirely sure why she’s got a tightness in her chest the rest of the morning, or why it gets worse during lunch when they all sit together and Louis and Zayn just — ignore her. Just sit and laugh together and don’t pay Harry a single bit of attention. 

“Kinda weird being the third wheel, huh?” 

Harry turns to face Niall. “I’m not the third wheel,” Harry says, “You’re here too. That makes four of us.” 

Niall shrugs. “Yeah, but they’re talking and we’re not.” 

Harry frowns. Niall’s right, is the thing. Harry’s the third wheel and she really doesn’t want to be. Especially not to Louis. She wants Louis to notice her. Well, whatever, if Louis isn’t going to notice her then she’ll just do what she likes. Like talk to Niall. 

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” 

Niall frowns at her. “You’re asking me?” 

“Who else?” 

Niall very deliberately glances at the other two girls across the table and Harry very deliberately ignores it, instead choosing to wait patiently for her to answer. 

“We’ll probably go eat with my sister and her husband,” Niall tells her eventually. “Up north a bit. I’ll get to see my niece.” 

“That sounds really nice.” Harry wishes she had some sort of extended family close by, but they all live three states away and it’s too long for her mom to ask off work. Besides, they might not take kindly to how pregnant she is. “My brother should be coming home from school.” 

“Greg’s coming?” Louis’ voice pulls Harry’s attention across the table again, blinking when she sees that Louis’ actually looking at her. 

“Yeah,” she says, shorter than she means to, and then turns back to Niall, who’s nodding. 

“That sounds like it’ll be fun. Just you and your mom and your brother?” 

Harry nods. Usually Louis comes over later in the day, once they’re both stuffed and Louis’ family are all taking naps to prepare for early Black Friday shopping. They’ll watch a movie — more often than not a Christmas film — and Louis will stay the night while everyone else goes out to get their Christmas presents. They’re soft memories, cozy and part of the reason Harry loves Louis so much. When she’s soft it’s amazing, makes all the sharp parts more than worth it. 

But Harry’s not sure of the plan this year. They haven’t talked about it or anything, and maybe Louis will want to hang out at Zayn’s or something. God forbid. 

She and Niall lapse into silence as Louis and Zayn continue on chatting. It’s a weird feeling to be left out of what they’re saying, and it doesn’t leave Harry for the rest of the day. 

— 

Liam drives them both to the doctor’s office, holds Harry’s hand in the waiting room and when she gets up on the table, her shirt pulled up and skirt pulled down just enough for the ultrasound tech to get a good picture. 

“This’ll be cold, sorry,” she says, and Harry hisses as the gel hits her skin. Liam’s fingers tighten around hers and she smiles up at him. She’s glad he’s here. Her mom couldn’t make it to this appointment, and Harry doesn’t know what Liam told his parents, but he’s here. 

“Here’s her heartbeat,” the tech says, and Liam’s fingers squeeze particularly tight. Harry’s heard it before, but nothing’s more amazing than the first time, hearing the noise it makes over the machine and knowing there’s a baby in there. A baby you made. 

“Oh wow,” Liam says, staring at the screen, his eyes wide. He looks like he did the first time Harry pressed him against his front door and kissed him. Shocked and amazed and like he can’t quite believe it. “That’s — We did that, Harry.” 

Harry’s heart thuds in her chest. “Yeah,” she says, squeezing Liam’s fingers. “We did.” 

The technician takes a few photos and sends them to the printer, leaving the machine while Harry cleans up and waits for the doctor. The rest of the visit goes quickly, and Harry’s picking up the photos and signing out at the front desk in no time. 

She stares at them as Liam drives her back home, tracing the outline of the baby’s head and tiny body on the paper. STYLES, reads a box at the top left and BABY GIRL reads a box on the right. She hadn’t realized, but the woman had been saying _she_. She. A baby girl. 

Tears spring to Harry’s eyes and her throat gets tight. A baby girl. 

“You okay?” Liam asks, frowning at her without looking from the road in front of him. 

“Yeah,” Harry says with a watery laugh. “It’s just. A girl. You know.” 

Liam does glance at her then, his face softening. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I know.” 

— 

She carries the picture around everywhere, more careful about where she keeps it while she’s in school. Obviously Harry isn’t worried about Louis’ reaction, but she’s still fairly certain she could get kicked out of school if it were to be officially confirmed that she’s pregnant. Surely everyone suspects by now, but no one’s said anything to her. If they’re going to act like everything’s the same then so is she. 

Still, it’s a few days before Louis notices, but when she does she snatches the picture up quickly, her eyes lighting up. 

“Are you going to get one of those crazy 3D ones when you’re farther along?” she asks, still looking down at the paper. “My mom got one with the twins and it was — ” 

She stops suddenly and looks up, her eyes wide. “You’re having a girl?” 

Harry’s cheeks heat. She’s not sure why. She nods, unable to keep a wide smile off her face. “Yeah. A girl.” 

“Oh my god,” Louis says, and looks down. Her hands reach out, like she’s going to put them on Harry’s stomach and Harry’s heart jumps into her throat, body tensing for the contact but it never comes. Louis’ hands fall away, like she’s thought better of it, but Harry doesn’t like that. She doesn’t want that. 

She takes one of Louis’ hands and puts it on her belly, right where the baby is. “She’s right there,” she says, acutely aware of how still Louis has gone. “She might kick if you talk, or something.” 

Louis stays frozen for a moment before blinking out of it and stepping closer, her hand still low on Harry’s stomach. She leans in a bit as she gets closer, pitching her voice down. Louis’ experienced in this, she remembers. She knows how to get a baby to move and knows just how to stroke her thumb over Harry’s skin to make her spine tingle. 

“I can’t believe you’re having a girl,” she says, looking back up at Harry, her hand still firmly in place. Her eyes are clear and blue, her face soft like she sometimes gets and only ever around Harry. It makes her throat tight, makes something well up in her chest and threaten to burst. 

Harry has to do something. She has to — she doesn’t know. She has to move, has to throw her arms around Louis’ neck and hug her as tightly as she can. Louis lets out an _oof_ but hugs her back anyway, safe and secure. 

— 

The following Friday is a rehearsal, so Louis just drives Harry over to her house after school instead of dropping her at home. Zayn had to drive herself to school for some reason today, so the ride was quiet, peaceful. Probably the longest amount of time Harry and Louis have spent together in weeks. Truthfully, Harry’s looking forward to tonight. It’s been a bit since she’s been alone with her best friend, and she’s missed her. More than she really wants to think about, to be honest. 

Harry sets her stuff down on the floor and flops on her back on Louis’ bed, letting out a groan of relief. Louis tuts at her but doesn’t say anything as she lays down next to her, propping herself up on her elbow. 

“Back still bothering you?” she asks, fingers finding the ends of Harry’s curls and playing gently, just enough so Harry can barely feel it. God, it’s been forever since anyone’s played with her hair. She misses that, too. 

“Yeah,” she says, scooting closer, adjusting her head so Louis has a better angle. Louis snorts softly but gets her hands in there for real, rubbing at Harry’s scalp and working through some of the easier tangles. Harry sighs and lets her eyes close, smiling as Louis starts talking about her brothers and all the weird shit they’ve done lately. 

“M’glad I’m having a girl,” Harry says a bit later, drowsily, lazily opening her eyes to glance up at Louis. “Wouldn’t know what to do with a boy.” 

Louis bites her lip and her hand stops moving. Harry pouts. Louis doesn’t seem to notice.

“Are you — You’re going to keep her, then?” 

Oh God. “I don’t know.” Harry looks up at the ceiling, sighing. “I’m not — It’d be stupid, I know, but I can’t imagine — “ She frowns. “What if this is my only chance, or something?” 

Louis frowns. “That’s stupid. Of course it’s not. You’ll find a husband and have other kids. You have to think about what’s best for her and you both.” 

Harry doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know how to say she’s fairly certain she’ll never want a husband. That even if she had one she wouldn’t — There’d be no babymaking. She doesn’t know how Louis would react to that, or even how to explain herself. 

A knock on the door startles them both, and a voice yelling, “Hey, let me in you losers!” 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Is that Zayn?” 

Louis nods as she gets up from the bed, crossing to the door that leads outside. “Yeah, thought she’d have fun with us. Have you heard her sing? It’s like, amazing.” 

Something heavy settles on Harry’s chest as Louis opens the door and Zayn steps through it. She thought this was time for her and Louis, time for them to spend together as best friends. She likes Zayn, but rehearsals are for Harry and Louis, especially considering they’re not even really rehearsals. It’s not like they ever do anything other than mess around on the piano. 

Zayn gives Harry a greeting and then immediately launches into some story to Louis that Harry doesn’t follow. It’s obviously a continuation of something else, but seeing the two of them together, watching Zayn make Louis laugh and smile makes something ugly twist in Harry’s chest, makes her want to be mean. 

Is this how Louis felt every time she was with Harry and Liam? 

“I have to go,” she says, standing and grabbing her bag. “I um, don’t feel well. Sorry.” 

Louis frowns at her. “Do you want me to drive you home?” 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll walk,” she says, but Louis snorts at her. 

“Not if you don’t feel well you won’t,” she says, already getting up to get her shoes, but Harry shakes her head and makes it to the door in record time. 

“Really, think the fresh air might do me some good.” 

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “You’ll freeze.” 

“I’ve got a jacket and it’s not that far.” Harry gives them a smile, but it feels like a grimace. Probably looks like one too, judging from their reactions. Whatever. She slips out the door before either of them can say anything else, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she makes her way home. 

She used to walk this route all the time, before Louis got her license and her first car. It hasn’t changed much, thankfully, and the first snow won’t come until December, so it’s still okay for walking. The fresh air _does_ help, the shock of cold on her face clearing her head a little. She was acting ridiculous for no reason. Zayn and Louis are friends. It’s a good thing. 

_It doesn’t mean Louis likes me any less_ , she tells herself, and almost believes it. 

— 

Her phone vibrates as she makes it in her front door, thankful for the warmth. 

_You’re insane_ , a text from Zayn reads, and Harry rolls her eyes and doesn’t respond. She does flick through her other contacts, considering briefly texting Niall or Liam to come over and watch a movie or something. 

She ends up on Greg’s name instead, smiling softly down at her screen. He’s been away at college for months, and they still talk pretty frequently, but it’s different without him here. She always had someone to do something stupid with when he was around. Now she’s just….lonely. 

_Miss you, big brother_ , she sends to him, not expecting the way her phone vibrates with a text back in less than a minute. 

_miss you too. Something wrong?_

Harry rolls her eyes. _can’t tell my favorite brother I missed him?_

_ha ha. Nice try. What’s up?_

Harry lets out a breath. Greg wouldn’t judge her, she knows. If she asked about Louis and Zayn and how weird she feels. He didn’t say anything rude when she told him she was pregnant and he’s always been fiercely protective of her. He’s always on her side. She knows that. 

_what do you do when your friend makes new friends and you get jealous about it_

_I would probably tell myself to get over it. You, though, should tell Louis you’re in love with her_

Harry’s pulse ratchets into her throat. _what_ and then, immediately after, _what’s that supposed to mean_

Greg takes an agonizing full minute to respond. _Means you’re in love with her. Tell her._

Harry puts the phone down without responding, her heart racing. That’s ridiculous. She can’t be in love with Louis. Louis is a girl and Harry doesn’t like girls. Harry likes boys. 

_No you don’t _, Harry thinks, her eyes going wide.__

__“Oh, shit,” she says, and sits down hard on the couch._ _

__—_ _

__Harry does what any sane person in a crisis does. She takes a nap about it._ _

__Okay, that’s probably not the best plan, but her house is empty and her bed is mostly comfortable, and someone telling you you’re probably in love with your best friend takes a lot out of you._ _

__Not that Harry could actually be in love with Louis. That wouldn’t make any sense. She loves Louis, sure, but she’s not _in > love with her. She would know. She wouldn’t have to find out from her brother. That’s the kind of thing someone figures out on their own. Like, being in love with someone. She knows she isn’t and never was in love with Liam, for example. She loves him, he’s a great friend and a great boyfriend, but she’s not in love with him. __ _

___The doorbell startles her awake, pulling her from a restless sleep and leaving her groggy. She hadn’t even noticed she’d closed her eyes._ _ _

___Shuffling her way to the front door, Harry tries to wake herself up, rubbing at her eyes and hair, trying to tame it. It doesn’t really matter though, because it’s only Zayn on the other side of it._ _ _

___“Hey,” she says, when Harry’s opened the door and stood there staring at her for much longer than she needs to._ _ _

___“Hey,” Harry echoes. “Weren’t you with Louis?”_ _ _

___Zayn shrugs. “Was, but figured I’d come check on you.”_ _ _

___Harry steps away from the door, letting Zayn pass into the house. “That’s nice of you.”_ _ _

___“Yeah.” Zayn snorts. “Even though your excuse was bullshit.”_ _ _

___Harry’s cheeks heat. “Shut up,” she says, but Zayn doesn’t listen._ _ _

___“You’ve been acting really weird. Jealous, or something.” She looks up at Harry, an eyebrow raised. “But I can’t figure out why. Like, you know Louis likes you best, right? Forever and always. And you’re my friend too or whatever.”_ _ _

___Harry swallows around a lump in her throat. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”_ _ _

___Zayn rolls her eyes. “Don’t make a big deal about it,” she says, and pauses. “You sure you’re okay?”_ _ _

___Harry lets out a breath. She could just say she’s fine, that she really only feels ill like she said earlier. There’s no reason to bring up what Greg mentioned. At all. Except. What if Zayn’s noticed the same thing? What if Zayn thinks she’s in love with Louis?_ _ _

___“Would it be bad? If I were jealous,” she says eventually, chewing on her bottom lip. Zayn’s eyebrow quirks up again, but other than that her face stays impassive. Impossible to read._ _ _

___“It’d make sense.” She shrugs. “You’ve been friends forever, right? And you’ve basically been Louis’ only friend for that whole time.”_ _ _

___She’s right. Harry knows she’s right, but she also knows it’s not what Zayn _thinks_. “My brother thinks I’m in love with her,” she says, and Zayn doesn’t say anything for a long moment._ _ _

___“Are you?” she asks eventually. There’s nothing harsh in her tone, nothing judgemental or that makes Harry flinch away. It’s just an innocent question. A question Harry doesn’t know the answer to._ _ _

___“Do you think I am?”_ _ _

___Zayn doesn’t answer and Harry looks at her. “I need you to tell me,” Harry says, unable to keep the pleading note from her tone. “Please. You’re always honest.”_ _ _

___Zayn sighs. “Yeah,” she says, and Harry’s breath catches in her throat. “I think you have feelings for her. I think she has them for you too.”_ _ _

___“No.” Harry shakes her head, feeling woozy. Feeling like she might fall over. “I, um — She doesn’t. Wouldn’t.” She’s at least sure of that._ _ _

___“And you would?” Zayn’s voice is gentle. It makes Harry squeeze her eyes shut._ _ _

___“I don’t want to get married to a boy,” she says, still not looking. “I don’t — I didn’t like being with Liam, like that. I don’t think I’d like it with a boy.”_ _ _

___Zayn swears softly under her breath, barely audible to Harry, and sits forward on the couch. Harry crosses her arms over her chest._ _ _

___“That’s, you know that’s okay, right?” Zayn looks up at her, then stands. “Harry. You know it’s okay not to want to marry a boy. Really.”_ _ _

___Harry doesn’t know, is the thing. All anyone ever talks about is getting married and planning their wedding and going to college to meet a husband. Or, okay, her friends don’t really talk about it, but other people at school. Her mom. The shows she watches. All men and women, getting married, having sex. Whatever. Harry’s not — she doesn’t want that._ _ _

___She shrugs, inhaling a shaky breath. Zayn’s arms are around her in the next moment, squeezing tight._ _ _

___“It is,” she says fiercely, her fingertips digging in. “It’s okay. I’m proud of you, okay? Thank you for telling me.”_ _ _

___“God, don’t be weird about it,” Harry says, though she feels mostly like crying. What does this even mean? She’s not like — She’s not gay. Or. No. She is. That’s exactly what it means. She’s gay. She likes girls._ _ _

___She likes _Louis._ _ _ _

___“Oh God,” she says again, really crying this time, wrapping her arms around Zayn and squeezing her back._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___There’s really only one thing for Harry to do after a realization like that. Research as much as she can about girls liking girls and avoid Louis at all costs until she settles down._ _ _

___Okay, that’s two things, but they’re connected and it’s really difficult to look at Louis and not think about how pretty she is or wondering how long she’s been noticing things like that. Is it normal? Harry’s pretty sure she hears women compliment each other all the time, so how’s she supposed to know when it’s a friendly thing and when it’s not?_ _ _

___“D’you think I’m butch or femme?” Harry asks Zayn one day, hanging her head over the side of Zayn’s bed and looking at her upside down. Zayn snorts at her._ _ _

___“Look in a mirror and ask me again.”_ _ _

___Harry frowns. “I was only asking,” she mumbles, rolling over and sitting up. She’s looked up a few things, like other people’s coming out stories and how to come out to Christian parents and like, basic terminology. She hasn’t looked up anything else, though. Like sex, or whatever. She doesn’t want to end up with a bunch of porn spam and then have to explain it to her mom. But she’s really curious._ _ _

___Like, really curious._ _ _

___But she can’t ask Zayn. That would be _way_ too weird and embarrassing, and there’s no one else she can talk to about it who wouldn’t either laugh in her face or get her kicked out of school. So. The internet it is. _ _ _

___It takes a few tries, a few different incognito google searches, but finally Harry lands on a site that seems. Well. It seems less terrible than the other ones, featuring sort of artsy videos and photos in black and white. She makes sure to go through it when it’s late at night and her mom is either at work or in bed and not likely to walk in on her. It’s nerve wracking, is the thing, and even though Harry’s got her earbuds plugged in, she still keeps checking and double checking the volume._ _ _

____I’m not doing anything wrong_ , she tells herself, because she’s not. She knows that. It’s still hard to ignore the shame curling in her gut. _ _ _

___It gets easier when she stumbles onto one of the tamer photos on the blog, of two girls, shirtless and in bed, arms slung over the other’s bare backs. There’s nothing explicit in it, nothing inherently sexual, but it makes Harry’s heart clench, swell with something she can’t define. _I want that_ , she thinks, and can see it so clearly, except it’s her and Louis, wrapped around each other in bed. God. _God._ She shouldn’t be having these thoughts about her best friend, but she can’t stop. She can’t stop. _ _ _

___—_ _ _

___A few days pass, wherein Harry keeps going to school and keeps going home and looking at that blog after she’s done with her homework. The pictures get less and less shocking to see, some of them making something turn in her stomach that’s not entirely unpleasant. She starts imagining herself in these positions — kissing someone on her bed, their legs tangled up in the sheets; hands on her hips and a mouth on her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Her breath catches any time she thinks of someone’s mouth on her — her vagina; her cunt, her clit. The vulgarness of it adds something, she thinks. The shame no longer making her feel bad but instead like, turning her on even more, almost._ _ _

___She shouldn’t be surprised to find herself sliding a hand under her skirt, fumbling over her underwear, biting her lip when she feels how wet she’s gotten through the cotton._ _ _

___“Christ,” she swears, letting her head flop back on the pillow as she gets her hand under the waistband of her panties, sucking in a breath as her fingers slide through the wetness._ _ _

___Her cheeks heat as she finds her clit, breath stuttering at the jolt of pleasure she gets. She chases it, rubbing her fingers again, harder, outright gasping at the feeling. It’s easy from there, to let her fingers do the work and her mind run away until there’s pressure building between her hips and it breaks like a wave on the shore, rolling over her body and leaving her gasping for breath._ _ _

___Yeah. Definitely better than with Liam. That’s a few questions answered, at least._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___It’s Thanksgiving before Harry mentions it to her mom. Louis’ already said she can’t come over since her step-dad’s family has come from three states away to visit and she has to get to know them, or whatever. It’s fine. Harry’s a little sad about it, but it’s also nice not to have to make up an excuse to avoid her._ _ _

___They’re all sitting at the table, Harry’s mom and Greg and her, the turkey in the middle, surrounded by all of the side dishes. They always make enough food for ten people, even though there’s only three of them. The rest usually gets donated (if it’s uncooked) or made into meals for the next month. Harry’s been hungrier than usual lately though, and Greg can always put away an insane amount of food. If Liam comes over later like he’s planned on, he’ll probably eat some too, so maybe they won’t have much left over this time around._ _ _

___“I’m thankful for my lovely family,” Anne says. She’s smiling, wide and with a dimple, the same dimple Harry and Greg both have. They’re all holding hands. It’s very picturesque. Harry’s not sure how to feel about it. “I’m thankful for your love and support every day.”_ _ _

___“I’m thankful I have a home to come back to,” Greg says next, “and the love of a great family.”_ _ _

___They both turn to look at Harry, who freezes. She can’t think of a worse time to tell them that she’s gay, but she also can’t think of a better one. She can’t really think, is the thing. “I’m thankful for your love,” she says tentatively. “And also. Um. I’m gay.”_ _ _

___Anne’s eyes widen and Greg’s mouth scrunches up, like he’s holding in a laugh. Oh God. This was a total mistake._ _ _

___“You’re pregnant,” Anne says, haltingly, like she’s confused. She probably is. It’s quite a bomb that’s been dropped. “I don’t understand. You — You don’t like Liam any more, then?”_ _ _

___“I don’t know if I ever liked him,” Harry says, chewing on her bottom lip. “I mean. He’s great. But I don’t know that it was ever actually...romantic.”_ _ _

___Her cheeks heat as her mom stares at her, but Greg squeezes her hand._ _ _

___“Proud of you, little sis,” he says, and turns to the turkey. “Now, who wants what?”_ _ _

___—_ _ _

___After telling her family, nothing seems daunting. Zayn knows, her family knows and they all still love her. Liam’s told her himself that he definitely likes both girls and boys, so she’s not worried._ _ _

___Okay, she is worried, but not like, a whole lot._ _ _

___They’re cooking dinner at Harry’s when she tells him. Harry’s sitting at the table and Liam’s standing over the sick, chugging a glass of orange juice._ _ _

___“Liam,” she says, tapping her fingers on the table. “I’m gay.”_ _ _

___He sputters, coughing. He turns to her, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His eyes are wide. “What?”_ _ _

___“I’m gay. Like. I like girls. I only want — Only girls.”_ _ _

___Liam’s brow furrows, and he blinks a couple of times. He’s silent for a long, long time. “So you really didn’t like when we had sex?” he says eventually, and Harry snorts before she can stop herself._ _ _

___“No,” she tells him with a shrug. “And like. I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll find someone to have sex with you? Or like. Who will enjoy it. But I didn’t. I’m sorry.”_ _ _

___Liam nods, ever the picture of reason. He doesn’t seem insulted, so that’s something, at least. “I think that makes sense,” he says, nodding again. “I always thought maybe you and Louis —”_ _ _

___“What?” Harry feels her eyes widen. “What are you — That’s —” She laughs, nervous. God, has she been this obvious the whole time? How did everyone know before she did?_ _ _

___“I mean, never for sure, and never before, you know,” he says, waving a hand. “Before I went away. And like, talked to other people. You know.”_ _ _

___“Right.” Harry grimaces. “Have you been...talking to people? About it?”_ _ _

___Liam shrugs. “Just this group once a week. After school, or whatever.”_ _ _

___“Oh. That sounds nice.”_ _ _

___“It is.” Liam nods. “You could. Come sometime, if you wanted. Anyone’s welcome.”_ _ _

___She hadn’t really thought about it, but having people to talk to who might understand, who could help her through it and know what she’s talking about would be amazing, probably._ _ _

___“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “That sounds great.”_ _ _

___Liam smiles, wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Love you,” he says, kissing the top of her head. It makes Harry smile, and she hugs him back, feeling settled._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___As easy as it is to tell Liam, the thought of telling Louis turns Harry’s stomach. Disregarding the fact that Harry has feelings for her, Harry just doesn’t know how she’s going to react. At all. She’s been alright lately, especially since making friends with Zayn and Niall, but still. The memory of their fight after she found out about the baby is still there, in Harry’s head. She hasn’t forgotten._ _ _

___So really, that’s mostly why Harry doesn’t tell her. They’ve got a good thing going so far, and it’s not like Harry finds herself wanting to comment on women in a non-platonic way, so it’s not a big deal. Her best friend doesn’t know she’s gay but it’s fine. It’s….mostly fine._ _ _

___Louis slides into the seat next to her at the lunch table asking, “Are we still on for Friday?”_ _ _

___Harry frowns. Louis stares at her. “You forgot? Our study party?”_ _ _

___Right. Of course. Every year before winter exams they have a study sleepover so Harry can help Louis cram three months of knowledge into one night. It’s usually a blast because they get to stay up all night and gossip and it’s just the two of them, but those same things are making the dread build in Harry’s stomach._ _ _

___“I, um. I don’t know,” she says, trying not to notice the way Louis’ face falls. “I mean. Greg might come back early, and he’s — you know. I miss him.”_ _ _

___“Right,” Louis says, an edge to her voice. “I —” She stops, shuts her mouth. “I hope you have a good time with him, then,” she says eventually, turning back to her food. Harry wants to say something else, like _of course I’ll come over_ or _I love when we spend time together_ or _I’m terrified you’ll find out I love you if we spend any more time together_. But she doesn’t. She stays quiet, eating her lunch instead._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___It comes to a head at the Tomlinson/Deakin Christmas party._ _ _

___It’s a cliche, Harry knows, but seeing Louis there under the sparkling lights, a glass of cider in her hand and wearing the hideous green hat her littlest brothers picked out for her birthday. Her sweater is red and soft-looking, and Harry’s been itching to run her fingers over the fabric, slide her hands down Louis’ sides and maybe sneak her fingertips under the hem for a chance to touch her skin._ _ _

___Louis would never in a million years go for that, but God. Harry wants it. It’s been months since she’s realized, months spent pining stupidly over her best friend and Harry’s at her wit’s end. She’s really — She has to do something about it. But here isn’t the best place, not with almost every member of their church milling around and Louis’ whole family scattered about the place._ _ _

___Instead, Harry focuses on singing carols when they’re all crowded around the piano and drinking cider and eating way too many cookies. Her dress hides her belly fairly well, so she hasn’t had to field very many questions, but she has gotten a few judgemental glances from some of the older women in their church. Whatever. They can go pray about it._ _ _

___She starts to lag a few hours in, and makes her way down the stairs to Louis’ room to lay down. It’s only a few minutes before she hears footsteps, sees Louis making her way down, tugging off her hat as she goes._ _ _

___“Thing’s making me sweat,” she grumbles, tossing it on her dresser before flopping down on the bed. She turns to look at Harry, eyes flitting down her body and landing on her stomach before meeting her gaze again. She reaches out, puts a hand on Harry’s belly, right where the baby’s sitting. She always knows, somehow, just where the baby is. It’s as weird as it is comforting. “You okay?”_ _ _

___Harry raises an eyebrow. “Are you asking me or her?”_ _ _

___Louis rolls her eyes, scooting closer on the bed. “You, obviously. The baby can’t answer me, can she.”_ _ _

___Harry shrugs. “I’m okay, I guess. Could be worse.” Her feet hurt and she feels like she could fall asleep any second, but at least Louis is there with her. Harry smiles at her, reaches out to brush Louis’ bangs back from her face. “It’s a good party.”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Louis says quietly. “Not bad. Best one in a few years.”_ _ _

___Harry nods in agreement, an odd feeling welling up in her throat, making it tighten. Louis’ always so beautiful, always there and always checking up on her and — God. Harry loves her. She has to do something about it._ _ _

___She lets her fingers drift to Louis’ cheek, her thumb on the cute little jut of Louis’ chin. “I’m going to do something, okay? Don’t freak out.”_ _ _

___Louis’ eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull back. “That’s never a good way to start something,” she says, inhaling an audibly shaky breath when Harry moves closer on the bed, leaning up and over a bit to bring their faces close._ _ _

___“Tell me to stop if you need me to,” Harry murmurs, and leans down the rest of the way to press their mouths together._ _ _

___It’s not what Harry expected. She thought maybe it’d be like kissing Liam. Sort of warm and nice and comforting. She hadn’t expected the pull in her chest when their lips met, the way it made her breath surge up and out of her nose. The way her lips tingle on contact. The way Louis’ hand circles around her wrist._ _ _

___The way Louis kisses back._ _ _

___It’s chaste. Barely a press of their closed mouths, but it’s enough. It’s enough to make Harry sure that she wants more, that this is _right_ , that her feelings aren’t just a weird misplacement or whatever. She wants Louis. She loves Louis. _ _ _

___“Stop,” Louis says, pulling away._ _ _

___Harry’s eyes fly open as Louis sits up, maneuvering away. Oh God. Oh no. She’s just kissed her. That was an incredibly stupid thing to do._ _ _

___“Um,” she says, but Louis shakes her head._ _ _

___“No, um, we don’t — Don’t say anything, okay?” Her eyes are wide, shiny like they’re maybe on the brink of tears. God. Harry’s made her cry. “I have to uh. Go back upstairs. I have to go,” she says, standing and smoothing down her sweater. She rubs her face a couple of times, completely ignoring Harry as she tries to fix her hair._ _ _

____I’m sorry_ , Harry wants to say, but she’s not sorry, and Louis’ climbing the stairs anyway. She wouldn’t have heard, and even if she had, she definitely wouldn’t have listened._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___Harry stays in the room longer than she means to, but it turns out it doesn’t matter, because Louis bursts back in only a few minutes after she’s left._ _ _

___“You kissed me,” she says, standing in front of Harry where she sits on the bed._ _ _

___Harry swallows thickly, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yeah,” she says, gripping the bedspread._ _ _

___“Why?”_ _ _

___Harry laughs, incredulous. “Why do you think?”_ _ _

___“Don’t,” Louis says sharply, sounding unhinged. “Not right now, okay? Just. Tell me.”_ _ _

___Harry lets out a slow breath. “I kissed you because I — Because I like you. And want to kiss you.”_ _ _

___“Harry,” Louis says, but nothing else._ _ _

___“You don’t have to like me back,” Harry says into the silence. “That’s okay if you don’t. I know it’s unfair of me to do this. But I — I do like you. I thought you should know.”_ _ _

___She stands slowly and Louis moves out of the way, looking at her with wide eyes. She looks confused. Hurt, maybe. Harry can’t really tell. She’s not going to apologize. No matter what, she won’t._ _ _

___“I’ll see you around, I guess,” Harry says, and walks out of the room. Louis doesn’t call out for her, and Harry doesn’t expect her to._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___The funny thing about ruining your longest friendship by kissing your best friend is — Okay, there’s not really any funny part at all._ _ _

___Harry’s miserable. She’s sad and grumpy all the time, and she misses her best friend and it’s Christmas holidays so she doesn’t have anyone to distract her from her sadness. Except the baby, but the baby’s more of a stress inducer than reliever, so that’s mostly a bust._ _ _

___Christmas with the Styles is never a big affair, so it’s only Anne and Greg and Harry again, sitting around the table. There’s not nearly as much food this time around, for which Harry is thankful, because she doesn’t like ham as much as she does turkey and they only just ran out of leftover turkey a week ago._ _ _

___There’s presents under the tree that they all open on Christmas morning, and then Greg leaves to go back to campus for some reason or another. Harry’s fairly certain he doesn’t want to miss all the good New Year’s parties, but she doesn’t tell her mom that. It’d only make her sad._ _ _

___Harry’s mom goes back to work the day after Christmas, and she’s left alone again. Just her and the baby. It sucks._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___“You’ve got to stop moping, oh my God.”_ _ _

___Zayn sounds exasperated, more exasperated than usual, actually, and Harry figures she deserves that. It’s been a whole half hour of her complaining about how bored and lonely she is. That’d be a lot for anyone to handle._ _ _

___“I’m not moping,” she says anyway, just because she can. Zayn snorts at her._ _ _

___“You are too. Just admit it. You’re sad without Louis around. It’s okay to feel that way.”_ _ _

___Harry rolls her eyes. “I’m fine. She’s the one who — Whatever. I’m fine. Really.”_ _ _

___Zayn gives her a look like she doesn’t believe her at all, but doesn’t press the issue further. “We’re having a New Year’s party,” she says instead. “New Year’s Eve, obviously. My parents wanted me to invite you.”_ _ _

___A party. On one hand, the thought of being around a bunch of potentially judgemental people she’s unfamiliar with is unideal. On the other, she’s bored out of her skull, so it can’t really be that bad, in the end._ _ _

___“I’ll come,” she says. “But make sure they have sparkling cider for me.”_ _ _

___Zayn rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirks up slightly. “Good. Be here at eight.”_ _ _

___—_ _ _

___Harry shows up at seven fifty-five, just because she can and because it’s not like she has anything better to do. Zayn lets her in with an eyeroll and Harry claims her spot on the couch. She’s entering the third trimester, which means her pelvis and hips are softening and widening to prepare for the birth. It’s weird to think about and it really freaking hurts and she can’t take anything for the pain, so the faster she can claim a spot for the rest of the night, the better._ _ _

___Zayn’s family knows, of course. Harry blurted it out to them one night during dinner, but if they judged her they kept it to themselves. Harry appreciates that._ _ _

___Zayn’s brother comes up to her, his hands on his hips. “You don’t look pregnant,” he says, accusingly. “Your belly isn’t big enough.”_ _ _

___Harry frowns and looks down. She supposes she is smaller than most at six months, but her doctor told her she’s healthy and that everyone’s bodies are different. That it’s not until the final few weeks that women tend to get really big._ _ _

___“Come here,” she says, gesturing at him. “Give me your hand.”_ _ _

___He frowns but reaches out slowly, letting Harry take his hand and put it on her belly where the baby’s been sitting all day. She starts to hum, a little tune that she and Louis wrote together years ago that’s been in her head lately and always makes the baby kick. Harry can’t tell if she hates the song or loves it, but she’s always moving to it, at least._ _ _

___At the first kick against his hand the boy gasps, and Harry grins at him._ _ _

___“Was that the baby?” he asks, his eyes wide._ _ _

___“Yep,” she says, letting him pull his hand away. “She’s in there.”_ _ _

___“Weird,” he says, and runs off. Harry laughs, leaning back against the couch._ _ _

___“That was pretty cute,” a familiar voice says behind her, and Harry sits upright, spinning around the best she can._ _ _

___“Louis,” she says dumbly, staring at her, heart in her throat. “Zayn invited you?”_ _ _

___Louis rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile at her mouth, like she just can’t help it. Something churns in Harry’s stomach. God, she wants to kiss her again._ _ _

___“Obviously Zayn invited me,” Louis says, coming around to the front of the couch. “Can I talk to you? Somewhere. Not here.”_ _ _

___Harry blinks, looking around. There’s not really anyone in the living room yet, but it’s easy enough for anyone to walk in, so Harry supposes she gets what Louis means. She nods, hauling herself off the couch and following Louis up the stairs to Zayn’s room._ _ _

___Louis holds the door open for her and Harry walks past, turning around just as Louis closes the door and leans on it. She doesn’t say anything._ _ _

___“So,” Harry says, wringing her fingers together._ _ _

___“So,” Louis echoes, crossing her arms over her chest. “You kissed me.”_ _ _

___Oh God. Harry grimaces, but nods. She doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation again, now or ever, but she figures she owes it to Louis, or something. It might be nice to get past it._ _ _

___“You didn’t apologize,” Louis says, and Harry frowns._ _ _

___“I’m not sorry.”_ _ _

___Louis raises an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t look mad. Harry can’t really read her, actually, can’t tell what she’s thinking for sure, but she’s probably not mad. Hopefully. “You’re not sorry.”_ _ _

___“I’m not going to apologize for how I feel,” Harry says. “I’m sorry if it hurt you in any way, and I’m sorry if — if we can’t be friends anymore or whatever, but I’m not sorry for how I feel.”_ _ _

___Louis doesn’t answer, just looks at her for a moment before saying, “I’ve been thinking.”_ _ _

___Harry stares at her. “Okay,” she says slowly, waiting._ _ _

___“You kissed me,” Louis says, pinching her lip between her forefinger and thumb. Nervous, then. It puts Harry at ease to know she’s not the only one freaking out. “And I didn’t — I didn’t hate it, you know? I thought. Women don’t kiss each other like that and like it, because that’s wrong, right? That’s what they told us. It’s a sin.”_ _ _

___Harry swallows thickly, nodding. Louis’ being nice about it, but it still hurts to hear that she thinks Harry’s sinful, still, that it’s wrong for her to do what she did. God. She might’ve preferred it if Louis were mean._ _ _

___“But then I thought that maybe it’s not.” Harry looks up as Louis steps away from the door. “That maybe it makes sense that you’d kiss me and I’d — I’d like it.”_ _ _

___Harry inhales sharply. “Louis.” Hope soars in her chest. Louis liked being kissed. Louis _liked_ it. “What are you saying?” _ _ _

___Louis laughs, rolling her eyes. “I’m saying, I don’t know! I don’t know. I just — I’ve been so unhappy for so long, and I didn’t realize it until — until then. Until you kissed me. Because then it made sense.” She takes another step closer as Harry stands there, frozen, too scared to do anything for fear that she might scare her off. Except, Louis doesn’t say anything else, and Harry is dying here, really, she just needs — She needs something._ _ _

___“Louis,” she says, reaching out, nearly sobbing when Louis’ hand meets hers, squeezing. “What made sense, Louis?”_ _ _

___“Why I’m such a huge jerk,” Louis says, stepping closer again, closing the distance and wrapping Harry up in a hug. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been pulling your pigtails for years,” she mumbles into Harry’s neck, and Harry laughs, though it sounds watery, like she’s crying. She might be crying._ _ _

___“I love you,” Harry says, squeezing her arms around Louis as tight as she can. “You know that? I love you. I’m in love with you.”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Louis says, pulling away slightly, looking up at her. She looks soft, happy. How she only ever looks when she’s with Harry. “I’m in love with you too,” she says, and leans up to kiss her._ _ _

___—_ _ _

___**_epilogue_ ** _ _ _

___A stampede of footsteps on the stairs wakes Harry from her dream, but she doesn’t open her eyes until she feels the bed dip when Heidi throw herself onto it._ _ _

___“Mom,” she says, her curls sticking out everywhere, popping out of the bun Harry makes for her every night before she goes to sleep. “Momma’s trying to cook again.”_ _ _

___Harry frowns, looking to the other side of the bed. Empty. That means Louis’ on one of her well intentioned but inevitably disastrous breakfast adventures._ _ _

___She sighs. “Guess we better go save her, huh?”_ _ _

___Heidi grins at her, her cheek dimpling up just like Harry’s does. She looks more like Harry than she does Liam, but his influence is there in her patience and her gentleness. Her running ability for sure. Louis’ in there too, though. Her temper, sometimes, and her dramatics and her obsession with the piano. Singing she gets from both of them, all three of them, really._ _ _

___The curls she gets from Harry._ _ _

___“I guess we better,” Heidi says, and jumps off the bed, taking off down the stairs, yelling for Louis. Harry smiles up at the ceiling for a moment before following._ _ _

___END._ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm here](http://jessimond.tumblr.com) if you need me. thanks for reading!


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